ON   B 


(J. .  .  ■^^^^C^~, 


V 


THE    AUTHOR. 


The  Truth  About  Ireland 


OR 


Through  the  Emerald  Isle  With 
an  Aeroplane. 


BY 

ALEXANDER    CORKEY 

AUTHOR    OF 
"The  Victory  of  Allan  Rutledge— A  Tale  of  the  Middle  West." 


WITH    AN    INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER 

SHOWING    THE 

BRIGHT    FUTURE    OF    IRELAND 

BY 

HON.   WILLIAM    JENNINGS    BRYAN. 


Published  by  Shockley  Bros.  &  Cook.  Oskaloosa,  Iowa. 

Published  in  London,  England,  by  Richard  J.  James,  Publisher, 
London  House  Yard,  St.  Paul's,  E.  C. 


5£9562 


SEP  19  074 


*25?S  COLLEGE  ub-^ 


DEDICATED 

TO 

MESSRS.   WILBUR  AND  ORVILLE  WRIGHT, 

INVENTORS   OF  THE  AEROPLANE  AND   CONQUERORS 

OF  THE  AIR 


■itf* 


COPYRIGHT,     I9IO,    BY    ALEXANDER    CORKEY 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


Contents 


PAGE 


CHAPTER 

INTRODUCTORY  BY  HON.  W.  J.  BRYAN            -  13 

I.  THE   BEGINNING   OF    MY    AEROPLANE  TRIP 

THROUGH  IRELAND              -            "           "  "       1& 

II.  FLYING  OVFR  KILLARNEY  IN  AN  AIRSHIP     -  26 
III.     OUR  EXPERIENCES  IN  COUNTY  KERRY     -  -       33 

IV.     A  THRILLING  VISIT  IN  CONNEMARA    -            -  $9 

V.     ALMOST  A  DISASTER                -            -            -  -       45 

VI.  FROM  WESTPOINT  TO  ENNISKILLEN     -            -  49 

VII.  A  DAY  IN  ENNISKILLEN            ...  -        55 

VIII.  CIRCLING    OVER    LONDONDERRY    IN    AN 

AEROPLANE         -----  60 

IX.     ALIGHTING  AT  THE  GIANT'S  CAUSEWAY  -       67 

X.     OUR  REST  ON  THE  ANTRIM  COAST     -            -  73 

XI.  A    FLIGHT    IN    AN    AEROPLANE    WITH    AN 

IRISH  GIRL             -----  80 

XII.  OVER  AND  AROUND  BELFAST          .            -  -       87 

XIII.  ALIGHTING  IN  DROGHEDA          -  93 

XIV.  WITH  FRIENDS  IN  DUBLIN        -            -  -       98 
XV.    GUESTS  IN  AN  IRISH  HOME        -            -            -  104 

XVI.     AROUND  THE  CAPITAL  CITY  OF  IRELAND  -      HI 
XVII.    WICKLOW,  THE  GARDEN  OF  IRELAND  115 
XVIII.    BACK  AGAIN  TO  CORK          -            -           -  -      123 
XIX.    OUR   LAST   DAY    IN    IRELAND.    SEEING    TIP- 
PER ARY     ------  12T 


List  of  Illustrations 


FRONTISPIECE, 

THROUGH  THE  EMERALD  ISLE  WITH  AN 
AEROPLANE, 

BLARNEY   CASTLE, 

AN    IRISH    CABIN, 

LONDONDERRY,  IRELAND, 

GIANT'S   CAUSEWAY, 

DUNLUCE   CASTLE,        - 

AN    IRISH   JAUNTING  CAR, 

AN    IRISH    VILLAGE, 

"BEGORRA,  IT'S    A   FOINE  BURD," 


The  Author 

Opposite  Page  24 
Opposite  Page  32 
Opposite  Page  40 
Opposite  Page  60 
Opposite  Page  74 
Opposite  Page  82 
Opposite  Page  96 
Opposite  Page  120 
Opposite  Page   132 


Preface 


*"pHE  aeroplane  is  man's  latest  invention.     Through  it  man  has 
become  lord  of  the   air.     The  steamship  and  steam  engine 
had  already  given  him   victory   over   sea  and   land.     Now  he  is 
complete  master  of  the  situation. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  uses  of  the  aeroplane  is  in  sight- 
seeing. Aerial  tourist  travel  will  soon  become  popular,  as  a 
bird's-eye  view  of  a  country  is  the  most  satisfactory  of  all. 

For  several  reasons,  however,  many  will  be  unable  to  enjoy 
this  latest  luxury,  traveling  in  the  body,  but  with  the  mind  every- 
one who  desires  can  enjoy  in  the  following  pages,  an  aeroplane 
trip  through  Ireland,  fairest  of  all  lands. 

This  mental  excursion  in  the  aeroplane  has  obvious  advan- 
tages over  a  like  physical  experience,  as  everv  aeronaut  will  cheer- 
fully acknowledge.  Future  aerial  travelers  over  Erin  will  be  able 
to  witness  to  the  truthfulness  of  this  bird's-eye  view  of  Ireland, 
and  I  trust  the  historical  allusions  will  add  to  the  interest  of  our 
survey  of  the  island's  lovely  scenes.  The  visits  to  Irish  homes, 
and  the  glimpses  of  Irish  character  will  also,  I  am  sure,  be  enjoyed. 

I  wish  to  thank  Hon.  William  Jennings  Bryan  for  the  Intro- 
ductory Chapter,  in  which,  from  the  viewpoint  of  a  practical 
statesman,  he  shows  the  bright  future  of  the  Emerald  Isle.  The 
full  account  of  this  famous  visit  of  his  to  Ireland  was  published 
in  the  Commoner,  which  owns  the  copyright. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


Introductory  Chapter 

SHOWING  THE  BRIGHT  FUTURE  OF  IRELAND 
BY 

HON.  WILLIAM  JENNINGS  BRYAN 


W 


Y  visit  to  Ireland  was  too.  brief  to  enable  me 
to  look  into  the  condition  of  the  tenants  in 
the  various  parts  of  the  island,  but  by  the 
courtesy  of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Dublin,  Mr. 
Timothy  Harrington,  and  Mr.  John  Dillon,  both  mem- 
bers of  Parliament,  I  met  a  number  of  the  prominent 
representatives  of  Ireland  in  national  politics. 

It  is  true  that  home  rule  has  not  yet  been  secured, 
but  the  contest  for  home  rule  has  focused  attention  upon 
the  industrial  and  political  condition  of  Erin,  and  a  num- 
ber of  remedial  measures  have  been  adopted. 

First,  the  tenant  was  given  title  to  his  improve- 
ments and  then  the  amount  of  the  rent  was  judicially 
determined.  More  recently  the  authorities  have  been 
building  cottages  for  the  rural  laborers.  Over  15,000 
oi  these  cottages  have  already  been  erected  and  arrange- 
ments are  being  made  for  some  19,000  more.  These 
are  much  more  comfortable  than  the  former  dwellings, 
and  much  safer  from  a  sanitary  point  of  view.  The 
recent  Land   Purchase  Act,  which   went   into  effect  on 


14  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

November  first,  (1903),  seems  likely  to  exert  a  very 
great  influence  upon  the  condition  of  the  people.  Ac- 
cording" to  its  terms  the  Government  is  to  buy  the  land 
from  the  landlord  and  sell  it  to  the  tenants. 

As  the  Government  can  borrow  money  at  a  lower 
rate  than  the  ordinary  borrower,  it  is  able  to  give  the 
tenant  much  better  terms  than  he  gets  from  his  present 
landlord,  and  at  the  same  time  purchase  the  land  of  the 
landlord  at  a  price  that  is  equitable.  The  landlords  are 
showing  a  disposition  to  comply1  with  the  spirit  of  the 
law,  although  some  of  them  are  attempting  to  get  a 
larger  price  for  their  land  than  it  was  worth  prior  to 
the  passage  of  the  law. 

The  purpose  of  the  law  is  to  remove  from  politics  the 
landlord  question,  which  has  been  a  delicate  one  to  deal 
with.  Most  of  the  larger  estates  were  given  to  the  an- 
cestors of  the  present  holders,  and  many  of  the  owners 
live  in  England  and  collect  their  rents  through  a  local 
agent.  The  new  law  makes  the  Government  the  land- 
lord; and  the  tenant,  by  paying  a  certain  annual  sum 
for  63  years,  becomes  the  owner  of  the  fee.  He  has  the 
privilege  of  paying  all,  or  any  part,  at  any  time,  and  can 
dispose  of  his  interest. 

The  settlement  which  is  now  being  effected  not  only 
removes  the  friction  which  has  existed  between  the  ten- 
ant and  the  landlord,  but  puts  the  tenant  in  a  position 
where  he  can  appeal  to  the  Government  with  reasonable 
certainty  of  redress  in  case  unforeseen  circumstances 
make  his  lot  harder  than  at  present  anticipated. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  15 

The  assurance  that  he  will  become  the  owner  of  the 
fee  will  give  to  the  Irish  farmer  an  ambition  that  has 
heretofore  been  wanting,  for  he  will  be  able  to  save 
without  fear  of  an  increase  in  the  rent. 

Not  only  is  the  land  question  in  process  of  settle- 
ment, but  there  has  been  at  the  same  time  other  im- 
provements which  make  for  the  permanent  progress  of 
the  people.  There  is  a  constant  increase  in  educational 
facilities,  and  a  large  number  of  co-operative  banks  have 
been  established.  Agricultural  societies  have  been  form- 
ed for  the  improvement  of  crops  and  stock,  and  the  trend 
is  distinctly  upward.  The  Irish  leaders  have  not  obtainr- 
ed  all  that  they  labored  for — there  is  much  to  be  secured 
before  their  work  is  complete,  but  when  the  history  of 
Ireland  is  written,  the  leaders  now  living  will  be  able  to 
regard  with  justifiable  pride  the  results  of  their  devo^ 
tion  and  sacrifice  and  their  names  will  be  added  to1  the 
long  list  of  Irish  patriots  and  statesmen. 

In  Dublin  I  paid  my  respects  to  Lord  Dudley,  Lieu- 
tenant Governor  of  Ireland,  whose  residence,  the  Vicere- 
gal Lodge,  is  in  Phoenix  Park,  and  found  him  so>  genial 
and  affable  a  host  that  I  am  led  to  hope  that  in  his  ad- 
ministration of  the  executive  branch  of  the  Government 
he  will  make  the  same  attempt  at  just  treatment  that 
parliament  has  made  in  the  enactment  of  the  recent  land 
measures. 

Dublin  is  a  very  substantial  looking  city  and  much 
more  ancient  in  appearance  than  Belfast,  the  latter  re- 


16  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

minding  one  more  of  an  enterprising  American  city. 
We  did  not  have  a  chance  to  visit  any  of  the  industries 
of  Dublin,  and  only  a  linen  factory  and  a  shipyard  in 
Belfast,  but  as  the  linen  factory,  The  York  Street  Linen 
Mills,  was  one  of  the  largest  in  Ireland,  and  the  ship- 
yard, Harland  and  Wolff's,  the  largest  in  the  world,  they 
gave  some  idea  of  the  industrial  possibilities  of  the 
island. 

Queenstown,  Ireland,  the  first  town  to  greet  the 
tourist  when  he  reaches  Northern  Europe  and  the  last 
to  bid  him  farewell  when  he  departs,  is  a  quaint  and  in- 
teresting old  place.  Here  the  returning  traveller  has  a 
chance  to  spend  any  change  which  he  has  left,  for  black- 
thorn canes  and  shillelahs,  "Robert  Emmett"  and  "Harp 
of  Erin"  handkerchiefs  and  lace  collars  are  offered  in 
abundance.  At  Queenstown  one  can  hear  the  Irish  brogue 
in  all  its  richness  and,  if  he  takes  a  little  jaunt  about  the 
town,  he  can  enjoy  the  humor  for  which  the  Irish  are 
famed. 

To  one  accustomed  to  the  farms  of  the  Mississippi 
and  the  Missouri  valleys,  the  little  farms  of  Ireland  seem 
contracted  indeed,  but  what  they  lack  in  size  they  make 
up  in  thoroughness  of  cultivation.  The  farm  houses 
are  not  large,  but  from  the  railroad  train  they  looked 
neat  and  well  kept. 

There  is  a  general  desire  among  the  leaders  of 
thought  in  Ireland  to  check  the  emigration  from  that 
country.     They  feel  that  Ireland,  under  fair  conditions, 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  17 

can  support  a  much  larger  population  than  she  now  has. 
Ireland,  they  say,  has  been  drained  of  many  of  its  most 
enterprising  and  vigorous  sons  and  daughters.  It  is 
hardly  probable  that  the  steps  already  taken  will  entirely 
check  the  movement  towards  the  United  States,  but 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  inhabitants  of  Ireland  and 
their  friends  across  the  water  contemplate  the  future 
With  Brighter  Hopes  and  Anticipations  than  they  have 
for  a  centurv. 


The  Truth  About  Ireland 


CHAPTER  I 

BEGINNING  OF  MY  AEROPLANE  TRIP  THROUGH  IRELAND 

^77^  T  all  happened  in  this  way.  Early  last  sum- 
T|  Vx  mer  I  was  travelling-  through  Ohio  and  came 
fpy,  g\    to  the  prosperous  city    of    Dayton.     While 

spending  a  few  days  visiting  in  this  enter- 
prising city,  a  friend  met  me,  and  proposed  to  call  on 
the  Wright  Brothers,  who  had  won  wide  fame  as  the 
men  who  knew  how  to1  fly. 

I  was  rather  skeptical  about  a  man  contesting  the 
atmosphere  with  the  fowls  of  the  air.  I  had  a  private 
opinion  that  Mother  Earth  was  meant  for  man,  and  that 
the  nearer  he  kept  to  it  the  better.  I  went  to  see  these 
aeronauts  with  a  prejudice  against  the  flying  business. 

We  soon  found  the  air-ship  factory,  and  we, were 
introduced  to  Mr.  Wilbur  Wright.  He  greeted  us  very 
cordially,  and  even  took  us  around  his  factory,  showing 
us  an  aeroplane  and  explaining  its  workings.  I  was 
astonished  at  the  simplicity  of  the  airship  and  was  im- 
pressed with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  successful  young 
aeronaut.  I  began  to  thaw  out.  I  asked  a  lot  of  ques- 
tions. Before  half  an  hour  had  passed  by  I  was  a  con- 
vert to  the  flying  business,  and  made  up  my  mind  that 
Mr.  Wright  was  a  "bird."  He  had  discovered  not  only 
how  to  fly,  but  also1,  which  is  more  important,  how  to 
light. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  19 

That  was  the  beginning  of  my  interest  in  aero- 
planes. I  do  not  expect  that  anything  wonderful  would 
have  come  out  of  my  Dayton  experience  had  I  not  jour- 
neyed the  next  week  to  New  York  State  to  visit  an  old- 
time  friend,  Mr.  Mike  Connor.  Naturally,  I  began  to 
display  my  new-found  knowledge  about  aeronautics  on 
the  first  opportunity.  To  my  great  surprise  I  found  that 
Mr.  Connor  was  also  an  enthusiastic  aeroplanist.  I 
found  he  knew  all  about  flying.  When  I  expressed  won- 
der at  his  knowledge  of  this  recent  art  of  cleaving  the 
heaven's  blue,  he  told  me  he  had  been  studying  the  mat- 
ter for  a  long  time.  He  said  he  could  get  few  of  his 
friends  to  take  any  stock  in  this  latest  victory  o>f  man 
over  nature,  and  he  was  delighted  to  find  me  a  sympa- 
thetic listener  to  his  descriptions  of  the  coming  uses  of 
flying  machines. 

Looking  carefully  around  the  room,  as  if  to  see 
that  no  unfriendly  ear  could  hear,  he  finally  confessed  to 
me  in  a  stage  whisper: 

"I  have  an  aeroplane  oi  my  own.  I  bought  it  two 
months  ago,  and  I  can  now  fly  with  it  beautifully." 

"Good,"  I  cried,  "let  me  see  it." 

He  at  once  took  me  out  to  the  shed  where  he  kept 
the  "bird."  I  looked  it  over  with  intense  interest,  which 
pleased  my  good  friend,  Mike,  (as  I  must  call  him)  very 
much.  It  was  a  Wright  aeroplane,  about  the  same  size 
as  the  one  Mr.  Wilbur  Wright  had  shown  me'  at  Dayton. 
The  two  main  planes,  like  the    top  and    bottom    of  a 


20  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

street  car,  were  40  feet  long,  and  7  feet  wide.  The  dis- 
tance between  the  upper  and  lower  planes  was  6  feet. 
These  planes  were  covered  with  a  stout  cloth,  like  tent 
cloth.  There  were,  two  small  horizontal  planes  in  front, 
controlled  by  levers,  by  which  the  aeroplane  was  raised 
or  lowered  at  will  when  it  was  in  the  air.  At  the  rear 
there  was  also  a  double  set  of  planes,  vertically  placed,  to 
assist  in  turning  the  airship,  just  as  a  helm  turns  a  ship 
in  the  water.  Motion  was  generated  by  two  large  pro- 
pellers, seven  feet  long,  made  of  spruce  wood,  which 
ran  in  opposite  directions.  Power  was  furnished  by  a 
compact,  25-horse  power  motor,  which  Mike,  whom  I 
knew  to  be  an  expert  with  gasoline  engines,  said  was 
one  of  the  best  he  ever  handled. 

"Just  as  reliable  as  steam,"  he  assured  me,  when  I 
spoke  of  the  unreliability  of  the  ordinary  motor. 

Mike  explained  to  me  hew  to  start,  how  to  rise  and 
descend,  and  how  to  turn  in  the  air. 

I  asked  him  why  he  had  not  let  me  know  about  this 
new  treasure  before,  and  he  told  me  his  friends  to.  whom 
he  had  spoken  about  it  had  treated  him  so  coldly,  that 
he  had  ceased  to  mention  the  matter,  but  he  had  quietly 
been  practising  with  his  machine  until  now  he  was  able 
to  fly  anywhere.  There  was  a  large  meadow  back  of 
his  house,  surrounded  by  thick  groves,  and  in  this  se- 
cluded spot  he  had  spent  weeks  perfecting  himself  in  the 
art  of  flying. 

As  it  was  too;  late  that  day  for  a  flight  he  promised 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  21 


to  take  me  on  my  first  jaunt    among    the  clouds    next 
morning. 

I  had  known  Mike  Connor  since  he  was  a  boy.  His 
father  had  left  him  a  lot  of  money,  but  he  was  not  the 
usual  wild  kind  of  heir.  He  looked  after  his  estate 
closely,  but,  having  a  heap  of  time  on  his  hands,  he  was 
always  ready  for  a  diversion.  When  the  bicycles  first 
came  out,  he  had  two  or  three  of  the  finest  makes.  He 
was  the  very  first  in  his  neighborhood  to  purchase  an 
automobile,  and  he'  soon  became  an  expert  with  his 
motor  car.  Accordingly,  I  was  not  surprised  to  know 
that  he  had  so  soon  mastered  the  use  of  the  aeroplane. 

When  we  came  back  to  the  house  he  asked  me  sud- 
denly : 

"Jack,  what  are  you  going  to  do  this  summer?" 
"I  have  been  planning,"  I  replied,  "to  take  a  run 
across  the  fish  pond  and  visit  old  Ireland  again." 
"Good,"  he  fairly  shouted. 

I  looked  at  him  a  little  curiously,  wondering  why 
he  was  so  interested  in  my  visit  to  the  Emerald  Isle. 

"Let  us  go  together,"  he  continued  enthusiastically, 
"and  take  the  aeroplane." 

This  was  certainly  a  novel  proposition,  and  I 
laughed  so  heartily  at  the  idea  of  flying  through  Ireland 
that  Mike  got  impatient. 

"Don't  you  think  we  can  do  it?"  he  asked. 
"Let  us  wait  till  morning,"   I  answered  evasively, 
"and  we  will  see  about    it."     Mike's    face    fell,  and  I 


22  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

could  see  he  thought  I  was  not  a  thorough  convert  to 
the  aeroplane  art. 

There  is  something  of  the  Scotchman  about  me,  and 
I  wanted  to  know  a  little  more  about  the  "bird"  business 
before  I  started  on  a  vacation  trip  with  wings.  An  Irish 
bog  would  not  be  a  bad  place  for  an  aeronaut  to  alight 
in  case  he  had  to  descend  unceremoniously,  but  I  didn't 
want  to  spoil  a  nice  outing  in  Ireland  by  breaking  my 
neck  trying  to  fly. 

The  next  morning  we  were  up  with  the  birds  and 
soon  had  the  aeroplane  all  ready  for  a  flight.  The 
Wright  aeroplane  ascends  from  a  "starting  rail,"  which 
is  merely  a  stout  board  turned  up  on  end. 

The  meadow  was  an  ideal  place  to  fly.  It  was  an 
immense  level  field,  about  half  a  mile  long,  and  quarter 
of  a  mile  broad.  I  had  all  confidence  in  Mike  and  had 
no  reason  to  believe  he  meant  to  destroy  me,  but  I  was 
just  a  little  shaky  as  I  climbed  up  into  the  second  seat 
over  the  motor. 

Mike  vaulted  easily  into  his  seat,  started  the  motor, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  we  were  off.  I  can  never  describe 
the  excitement  of  the  next  ten  minutes.  We  rose  to-  the 
height  of  about  80  feet,  and  then  sailed  rapidly  round  and 
round  the  field.  The  sensation  of  flying  was  something 
entirely  new.  I  was  exhilarated,  charmed,  delighted. 
After  I  became  a  little  used  to  it  I  was  able  to  observe 
the  field  below,  which  glided  under  us  with  marvelous 
speed. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  23 

After  ten  minutes  of  this  thrilling  experience  Mike 
decided  to  land,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  try  my  nerves  too 
severely  the  first  time.  The  landing  was  perfect.  Mike 
shut  off  the  motor  at  a  height  of  70  feet,  and  the  aero- 
plane came  gliding  down  like  a  big  bird.  I  could  not  tell 
just  when  we  came  to  earth,  so  gently  did  the  airship 
alight.  It  glided  along  on  its  runners  for  a  short  dis- 
tance and  then  came  quietly  to  a  stop. 

I  stepped  out  on  the  grass  like  a  man  in  a  dream1. 

"How  did  you  like  it?"  asked  Mike. 

For  answer  I  fairly  hugged  him.  He  was  pleased 
and  asked  at  once  about  a  trip  through  Ireland. 

"It  would  be  grand,"  I  exclaimed,  "let  us  go." 

We  had  several  other  flights  together  and  we  were 
both  confident  that  we  could  have  a  glorious  time  in  the 
Emerald  Isle  with  an  airship. 

We  soon  completed  our  arrangements.  The  aero- 
plane was  taken  to  pieces  and  carefully  packed.  Each 
box  was  marked  "Queenstown." 

In  three  weeks'  time  we  were  ready  to-  start.  We 
booked  on  the  Lusitania,  and,  as  the  boxes,  in  which  our 
aeroplane  was  stored,  were  taken  on  board  as  baggage, 
we  landed  in  five  days  at  Queenstown,  airship  and  all. 

I  had  crossed  the.  Atlantic  several  times  before,  but 
this  voyage  was  the  most  exciting-  of  all.  We  sat  on 
deck  and  talked  of  our  plans  when  we  landed.  Mike 
was  sure  of  his  ability  to  fly  a  day  at  a  time,  and  so  we 
outlined  a  strenuous  program.      I   was  well  acquainted 


24  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

with  Ireland,  and  I  had  marked  our  stopping  places  as 
we  would  fly  through  the  island. 

Sometimes  fear  of  failure  would  take  possession  of 
my  mind.  The  whole  thing  was  so  novel.  Such  a  thing 
as  flying  round  a  country  on  a  sight-seeing  trip  had 
never  been  attempted.     I  was  fearful  I  had  been  rash. 

A  talk  with  Mike  always  sent  these  fears  to  the 
winds.     He  had  no  fears  whatever. 

As  Mike  was  to  have  the  chief  share  in  piloting  our 
airship,  I  decided  to  take  generous  notes  and  prepare  a 
full  account  of  the  places  we  visited  and  our  most  ex- 
citing experiences  as  we  flew  over  the  green  fields  of 
Erin.  From  these  notes  I  have  prepared  for  the  world 
the  account  of  our  trip  which  is  found  in  the  following 
chapters. 

We  had  not  breathed  a  word  about  our  plans  to 
anyone  on  board  during  our  voyage  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  when  we  landed  at  Queenstown  we  quietly  sent  on 
our  ''baggage"  to  Cork,  and  followed  ourselves  that 
evening.  We  had  planned  to  begin  our  flight  from 
Cork.  We  expected  to-  fly  around  the  island  in  a  couple 
of  days  and  then  visit  some  attractive  places  one  by  one. 
We  were  compelled  to  change  this  plan,  as  we  shall  see. 

After  a  good  night's  rest  at  the  Imperial  Hotel  in 
Cork,  we  "assembled,"  as  aeronauts  say,  the  various 
parts  of  our  airship  the  next  morning  on  a  level  field 
just  outside  the  city. 

We  avoided  the  public  as  much  as  possible,  and  the 


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THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  25 

few  people  who  came  around  found  us  non-committal, 
-and  wondered  what  we  were  doing. 

In  the  evening  when  we  were  left  alone,  about  nine 
o'clock,  (it  is  still  quite  light  at  this  time  in  Ireland 
during  July)  we  made  a  short  trial  ascent.  Our  first 
flight  beneath  the  kindly  Irish  skies  was  a  complete  suc- 
cess.    Everything  was  working  beautifully. 

Well  satisfied  with  our  first  day's  work  we  returned 
to  our  hotel  for  the  night.  Our  plan  was  to  fly  the  first 
day  as  far  as  the  Giant's  Causeway,  going  up  the  West 
side  of  the  island.  On  the  second  day  we  expected  to 
return  to  Cork  and  make  trips  here  and  there  after  that. 

We  had  another  good  night's  rest,  and  rose  with 
the  sun,  or  rather  a  little  before  it.  We  found  our  aero- 
plane in  the  field  as  we  left  it,  and  after  carefully  ex- 
amining every  part,  Mike  said : 

"All  right,  Jack.     Let  us  start." 

I  climbed  up  on  my  seat.  Mike  started  the  motor. 
The  machine  began  to  move  along  the  starting  rail,  and 
rose  like  a  bird.  When  we  had  gone  up  to  about  the 
height  of  200  feet  we  circled  around  over  Cork.  In  the 
dawning  light  we  could  see  the  strange  tower  of  the 
Church  of  Saint  Mary  Shandon,  St.  Patrick's  Street, 
and  the  beautiful  Cathedral  of  St.  Finbar's.  I  could  also 
distinguish  Queen's  College. 

Turning  in  a  northwestern  direction,  Mike  said  to 
me : 

"Now   we're  off." 
We  were  speeding  through  the  air  towards  Killarney. 


CHAPTER  II 

FLYING  OVER  KILLARNEY  IN  AN  AIRSHIP 

^"V"~"Y77  T  was  just  4 130  by  my  watch  as  we  started 
Tf  \Y  from  Cork  on  that  eventful  nth  day  of 
J)  July.  There  was  good  daylight,  but  the 
~^^  city  was  still  wrapped  in  its  slumbers. 
It  was  a  beautiful  summer  morning  and  our  spirits 
rose  with  the  aeroplane.  We  began  the  strangest  trip 
through  Ireland  that  was  ever  made  by  man.  I  can 
never  forget  the  sight  of  the  green  fields  of  County  Cork 
that  morning.    It  was  a  scene  of  peaceful  loveliness. 

The  first  place  of  interest  we  passed  over  was  Blar- 
ney Castle,  which  is  only  five  miles  from  Cork.  We 
swept  directly  over  the  famous  ruin,  and  I  had  a  strange 
feeling  as  I  looked  down  on  the  far-famed  fortress  from 
my  aerial  seat.  As  I  had  been  at  Blarney  Castle  before 
I  was  able  to  locate  that  part  of  the  wall  where  the 
Blarney  Stone  is  seen.  I  tried  to  point  it  out  to  Mike, 
but,  before  I  could  get  the  place  described,  we  had  flown 
over  it.  We  learned  that  to  describe  anything  like  that 
on  the  aeroplane  you  have  to  look  as  far  ahead  as  pos- 
sible. I  had  no  idea  the  country  around  Blarney  was  so 
beautiful  until  I  had  a  good  bird's  eye  view  of  it.  I  was 
convinced  that  we  would  see  all  the  scenic  beauties  of 
Ireland  from  our  aeroplane  as  they  had  never  been  seen 
before. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  27 

The  distance  from  Cork  to  Killarney  is  50  miles  as 
the  crow  flies,  and  as  we  were  now  traveling-  like  crows 
we  measured  distances  as  they  did.  We  could  see  the 
River  Lee  at  our  left  as  it  meandered  through  the  neat 
farms  and  little  fields  of  the  Cork  farmers.  The  pleas- 
ant-looking" cottages  fairly  flew  beneath  us.  We  were 
surprised  to  see  so  much  of  County  Cork  under  cultiva- 
tion, as  we  expected  to  see  it  all  in  grazing  land.  I 
found  out  later  that  under  the  beneficent  new  Land 
Laws  most  of  these  small  farmers  now  own  their  own 
farms,  and  that  this  part  of  Ireland  is  prospering. 

It  was  a  perfect  picture  that  met  our  gaze  as  we 
looked  around.  The  small  fields  were  divided  with  thick 
hedges,  or  stone  walls,  sometimes  with  a  wall  of  earth. 
Groves  were  frequent.  Here  and  there  a  lordly  mansion 
peered  out  at  us  through  the  trees. 

Quite  a  distance  to,  our  left  we  could  see 
Macroom,  where  the  railroad  from  Cork  ends.  It  look- 
ed so'  quiet  and  still  in  that  region  that  morning  that  I 
was  reminded  that  there  was  a  tradition  that  the  gentle 
Quaker,  William  Penn,  was  born  there.  Penn's  father 
had  a  seat  at  Macroom,  but  I  think  the  young  William 
gave  his  first  cry  in  London.  At  least,  I  once  saw  the 
font  in  a  London  church  in  which  he  was  immersed  as 
a  tiny  infant. 

"Now  for  the  mountains,"  said  Mike,  as  the  Kerry 
hills  drew  near.  Their  peaks  loomed  up  before  us  big 
as  the  Himalayas.  Mike  began  to  raise  the  airship 
higher  and  higher. 


28  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Right  here  I  want  to  confess  that  often  throughout 
the  whole  trip  in  this  aeroplane  with  Mike  I  had  shaky 
feelings  that  were  a  little  unpleasant.  Once  in  a  while 
in  imagination  I  could  see  myself  tumbling  over  and 
over  to  the  ground,  like  a  wounded  bird.  Nor  were  my 
fears  altogether  groundless,  as  we  shall  see.  If  Mike 
had  any  such  apprehensions  he  never  said  a  word  to  me 
about  it.  I  rather  think  he  was  so  busily  engaged  con- 
stantly with  the  operation  of  the  aeroplane  that  he  had 
little  time  to  think  of  anything  else.  I  had  much  bet- 
ter chance  to  see  the  country  than  he  did,  but  I  also  had 
more  time  on  my  hands  during-  which  I  could  conjure 
up  all  kinds  of  disasters.  I  well  remember  that,  as  we 
rose  to  a  dizzy  height,  in  order  to  clear  the  Kerry  Moun- 
tains, I  had  almost  a  nervous  attack.  For  a  moment  I 
shut  my  eyes  and  heartily  wished  I  was  on  the  earth 
again.  If  I  could  have  gotten  safely  to  land  just  then,  I 
am  fraid  that  all  the  gold  in  Ophir  would  not  have 
tempted  me  to1  fly  ag'ain.  I  was  roused  by  a  cry  from 
Mike. 

"Look,"  he  fairly  shouted,  "isn't  that  grand?" 

I  opened  my  eyes  quickly  and  saw  Mike,  with  his 
face  all  aglow,  gazing  on  a  high  peak  which  we  soon 
recognized  as  Mount  Mangerton. 

It  towered  far  above  us,  high  as  we  were,  for  this 
peak  is  over  2,700  feet  high.  Soon  the  Devil's  Punch- 
bowl, another  high  mountain  peak,  with  a  flat  top,  came 
into   view.      This   mountain,   which   is   over  2,600   feet 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  29 


high,  is  easily  recognized.  Formerly  it  was  a  volcano, 
but  long  ago  burnt  itself  out.  The  crater  is  now  filled 
with  clear,  cold  spring  water,  which  is  piped  to  the  vil- 
lage of  Killarney.  It  is  surely  an  Irishism  to  call  this 
beautiful  water  from  this  huge  natural  reservoir  the 
"devil's  punch." 

We  were  looking  so  intently  on  these  great  hills 
that  we  crossed  the  crest  of  the  divide  before  we  were 
aware.     All  at  once  Mike  startled  me  again. 

"In  the  name  of  all  that  is  great,  look  there,"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

Never  can  I  forget  the  sight  that  lay  before  us  as 
I  lowered  my  eyes  and  caught  my  first  glimpse  of  the 
Vale  of  Killarney.  The  panorama  was  one  of  surpass- 
ing loveliness.  There  was  no  fear  whatever  in  my  heart 
now.  All  was  wonder,  admiration,  delight.  The  three 
Killarney  Lakes  lay  embosomed  among  the  towering 
hills.  The  Lakes  are  fully  eleven  miles  long  and  at  one 
place  two  and  a  half  miles  broad.  Magnificent  forests 
fringe  them  on  every  side,  and  over  sixty  wooded  is- 
lands float  in  the  charmed  waters.  Just  ahead  of  us  was 
Muckross  Abbey.  This  ancient  Abbey  was  founded  in 
1440'  by  the  McCarthys,  and  is  a  notable  ruin.  The 
walls  and  tower  are  in  good  condition.  We  could  see 
the  ivy  glisten  in  the  morning  light  from  the  top  of 
the  tower,  and  I  caught  a  passing  glimpse  of  the  gigan- 
tic yew  tree,  nearly  fourteen  feet  in  circumference,  which 
every  visitor  to  Muckross  Abbey  will  remember. 


30  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

"Hurrah  for  old  Ireland,"  cried  Mike,  as  we  glided 
down  to  within  150  feet  of  the  waters  of  the  Upper 
Lake.  We  soon  rose  again  to  about  300  feet  above  the 
water,  as  this  gave  us  the  'best  view,  and  at  this  altitude 
we  sailed  triumphantly  along  the  entire  course  of  the 
Lakes. 

Here  we  first  noticed  the  effect  that  an  aeroplane 
had  on  the  ordinary  denizens  of  the  earth.  It  was  now 
6  :oo  o'clock,  and  some  early  risers  among  the  tourists 
at  Killarne)^  were  enjoying  the  marvels  of  a  Killarney 
morning  along  the  banks.  We  could  hear  their  excited 
exclamations  as  they  caught  sight  of  us,  but  we  flew  on 
majestically. 

We  soon  passed  the  two  smaller  Lakes,  which  are 
joined  by  short  narrow  streams,  and  discerned  Ross 
Castle  clothing  itself  with  all  the  glories  of  a  morning 
of  sunshine  as  it  has  done,  every!  time  it  has  had  a 
chance,  for  600  years.  I  say  "every  time  it  has  had  a 
chance"  advisedly,  for  all  who  are  acquainted  with  Kil- 
larney weather  know  that  this  fine  ruin  is  often  com- 
pelled to  clothe  itself  with  morning  mists  and  rain. 

Ross  Castle  was  on  our  right  and,  beyond  it,  we 
could  see  Kenmare  House,  the  home  of  the  Earl  of  Ken- 
mare,  who  owns  Killarney.  It  is  situated  in  the  midst 
of  a  lovely  park,  with  beautiful  gardens,  covering  fully 
1900  acres  of  woodland  and  lawn.  However,  as  Mike 
and  I  sailed  past  it  in  our  airship  we  would  not  have 
exchanged  places  with  the  Earl  himself.     Beyond  Ken- 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  31 

mare  House  we  could  see  Killarney  village  straggling 
along  amongst  the  trees.  We  were  now  crossing  the 
Lower  Lake,  which  is  the  largest,  being  nearly  six  miles 
long.  We  turned  to  our  left  and  gazed  with  awe  at  the 
towering  peaks  which  enclose  this  scene  of  beauty.  The 
shifting  of  the  light  among  the  hills  was  glorious.  Look- 
ing over  our  shoulders  to  the  left  we  caught  sight  of 
Carntual,  over  3,400  feet  high,  the  highest  mountain 
in  Ireland.  Altogether  there  are  six  prominent  peaks, 
and  as  they  rise  from  the  level  they  make  a  majestic 
scene.  We  passed  directly  over  the  Innisfallen  island. 
This  large  and  beautiful  island  in  the  Lower  Lake  covers 
twenty-one  acres  and  from  above  it  looked  like  "a  beau- 
tiful miniature  of  a  beautiful  country."  We  could  see 
the  famous  ruins  of  Innisfallen  Abbey  on  the  island. 
This  Abbey  was  founded  in  600  by  St.  Finian,  and  it  is 
one  of  the  oldest  ecclestiastical  ruins  in  Erin.  The  Irish 
poet,  Thomas  Moore,  has  immortalized  this  little  Island 
in  his  ode: 

"Sweet  Innisfallen,  fare  thee  well." 

After  passing  Innisfallen  we  discussed  our  further 
route.  Mike  wanted  to  circle  over  the  Lakes  again,  but 
I  objected.  I  wanted  to  carry  away  the  remembrance 
of  Killarney  as  I  had  seen  it  for  the  first  time  from  an 
aeroplane.  I  was  afraid  a  second  look  would  take  away 
some  of  the  charm,  Mike  also  wanted  to  go  up  the  Gap 
of  Dunloe,  but  I  also  objected  to  this,  as  I  wished  to  hur- 
ry on  direct  to  the  North  of  Ireland  that  day.     We  com- 


32  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

promised  by  agreeing  to  turn  around  at  the  north  end 
of  the  lakes,  and  make  a  circle  over  the  north  part  of 
Lower  Lake,  while  we  took  our  last  look  at  Killarney's 
Vale. 

When  we  had  finally  turned  our  backs  on  the  glori- 
ous scene  and  Mike  started  north  over  the  high  plains, 
I  repeated  softly : 

"Beauty's  home,  Killarney, 
Heaven's  reflex  Killarney. 
Angels  fold  their  wings  and  rest 
In  this  Eden  of  the  West." 

Mike  roused  me  rudely  from  my  dreams  by  remark- 
ing : 

"These  two  angels  haven't  folded  their  wings  from 
the  looks  of  things.     See  how  the  ground  flies  past." 

I  laughed  good-naturedly  and  gradually  woke  up 
from  the  spell  of  the  beauteous  Lakes  of  Killarney. 

I  pulled  out  my  watch.  It  was  6  :2c  A  short  time 
later  we  caught  sight  of  the  railroad  between  Killarne}^ 
and  Tralee  and  followed  it  about  ioo  feet  above  the 
tracks. 


CHAPTER  III 

OUR  EXPERIENCES  IN  COUNTY  KERRY 

S  we  winged  our  way  above  the  railroad  ties 
we  rested  after  the  excitement  of  Killarney. 
We  were  now  in  the  heart  of  Kerry.  This 
part  of  Ireland  is  not  as  prosperous  as  some 
other  parts.  The  land  is  hilly  and  rocky.  Fences  are 
generally  made  of  stone.  The  little  cottages  are  also 
built  of  stone,  thatched  with  straw.  We  could  see  the 
stack  of  peats  beside  them  to  be  used  as  fuel,  and  the 
little  potato  patch  which  furnished  food.  Blue  smoke 
was  beginning  to  curl  in  the  air  from  some  of  these 
cabins,  telling  us  that  rural  Ireland  was  awakening  for 
another  day  of  life,  such  as  it  is. 

Of  all  the  sensations  that  ever  visited  Ireland,  we 
surely  were  the  greatest  in  modern  times.  We  were 
much  amused  to  see  the  different  ways  in  which  our  ap- 
pearance in  the  air  was  greeted.  Sometimes  the  child- 
ren (plentiful  throughout  all  Ireland)  would  be  playing 
in  front  of  the  cabin.  As  they  heard  the  noise  of  our 
motor  we  could  see  them  stop  their  play  and  gaze  at  us 
in  amazement,  and  then,  with  a  yell,  all  would  dive  at 
once  for  the  door  of  their  home.  The  mother,  generally 
with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  would  appear  quickly.  Some- 
times the  woman  would  shriek,  like  the  children,  and 
run  inside  again.     At  other  times  we  noticed  the  women 


34  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

get  down  on  their  knees,  as  in  prayer.  Once  or  twice, 
the  woman  ran  out  and  waved  her  arms  at  us,  as  though 
in  greeting.  The  men  generally  looked  stolidly  at  us  in 
mute  amazement. 

We  had  an  exciting  time  when  passing  a  morning 
train  coming  from  Tralee.  We  could  see  it  smoking  in 
the  distance,  and  to  avoid  a  collision,  as  Mike  said,  we 
turned  the  aeroplane  about  ioo  feet  to  the  right  side  of 
the  track.  The  engineer  caught  sight  of  us  first,  and 
signalled  us  with  a  number  of  toots  on  his  whistle.  The 
tooting  brought  the  passengers  to  the  windows  and  soon 
heads  were  sticking  out  along  the  side  of  the  train  from 
one  end  to  the  other.  They  waved  their  hats,  handker- 
chiefs, umbrellas,  newspapers,  and  I  saw  one  old  gentle- 
man vigorously  shaking  a  book  at  us.  I  took  out  my 
handkerchief  and  waved  it  in  return.  The  engineer  kept 
tooting  his  whistle  until  he  was  far  past  us. 

We  watched  the  little  Kerry  cows,  which  looked 
carefully  for  any  stray  vegetation  to  be  found  in  the 
Kerry  uplands,  for  we  had  heard  that  the  Kerry  cow 
never  looks  up,  for  fear  it  would  lose  a  bite.  Certainly 
none  looked  up  at  us.  Cows  and  men  have  a  serious 
time  of  it  in  Kerry,  forcing  a  churlish  soil  for  daily 
food.  Many  of  the  men  in  Kerry  spend  part  of  the  year 
in  England  working  there,  while  the  wives  and  children 
look  after  the  cabbage  and  potato  patches.  We  saw  pigs 
and  goats,  and  a  few  sheep  around  some  of  the  cottages. 

The  English   Government  has   a   Board,   called   the 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  35 


Congested  Districts'  Board,  which  is  at  present  doing 
excellent  work  in  assisting  the  people  of  Kerry  and 
others  of  these  hilly  western  counties.  This  board  aids 
in  migration  to  other  parts  of  Ireland,  if  it  is  found  nec- 
essary, and  also  assists  in  developing  the  country  as  far 
as  is  possible.  Breeds  of  stock  are  improved  through 
its  help,  and  industries,  such  as  rug-making,  lace-making 
and  basket-making,  are  encouraged.  This  Board  has 
also  been  useful  in  developing  the  fisheries  industry  on 
the  west  coast  by  constructing  landing  places  and  equip- 
ping boats  for  the  fishermen. 

As  the  morning  advanced,  and  the  entire  population 
had  aroused  itself  we  were  kept  in  a  state  of  continual 
amusement  by  the  excitement  we  caused,  as  we  whizzed 
across  the  solitary  moors.  I  felt  real  sympathy  with 
Bridget,  who.,  as  she  walked  from  the  wedding  altar  on 
Pat's  arm,  whispered  to  him : 

"If  we  could  only  stand  and  see  ourselves  now, 
wouldn't  it  be  hivin,  Pat?"  I  felt  if  we  could  only  see 
ourselves  from  the  ground  and  hear  the  comments  of 
the  natives  our  bliss  would  have  been  full. 

We  passed  Tralee  at  6:35.  This  is  a  pretty  town 
situated  on  Tralee  Bay.  There  are  many  beautiful  resi- 
dences in  its  neighborhood.  Lord  Kirchener  was  born 
here. 

We  were  200  feet  in  the  air  when  we  swept  at  full 
speed  over  the  closely  built  houses  of  the  town.  We 
•could  see  a  few  people  stirring  on  the  streets  and  they 


36  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

looked  up  at  us  in  wonder,  but  did  not  make  any  mani- 
festation. Evidently  they  knew  what  an  aeroplane  was. 
After  passing  Tralee  we  kept  close  to  the  coast,  and 
soon  saw  the  wide  mouth  of  the  river  Shannon  ahead  of 
us.  This  is  Ireland's  largest  river,  220  miles  long,  pour- 
ing itself  into  the  sea  North  of  County  Kerry.  The  Ker- 
ry coast  is  rather  bleak  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief 
that  we  rushed  across  the  wide  mouth  of  the  Shannon 
into  County  Clare. 

Here  our  motor  gave  its  first  trouble.  As  we  were 
crossing  the  Shannon  it  alarmed  me  by  beginning  to 
"knock"  (as  motorists  say)  and  Mike  told  me  the  spark- 
er  was  not  working  properly.  We  had  planned  to  make 
our  first  landing  at  Kilkee  on  the  coast  of  Clare,  and,  as 
this  was  not  far  distant,  Mike  kept  on  at  full  speed  along 
the  coast.  The  coast  scenery  here  is  rugged  and  grand. 
Kilkee  is  situated  at  the  head  of  a  little  bay,  called 
Moore's  Bay.  When  we  reached  this  bay  Mike  sped 
clear  out  over  its  waters,  to  my  amazement,  and  then 
turned  up  the  bay  to  Kilkee. 

Coming  up  the  bay  we  could  see  much  excitement 
on  the  shore  near  the  town.  People  were  running  down 
to  the  shore  from  all  directions.  Mike  circled  over  the 
town,  about  300  feet  in  the  air,  and  then  came  down  on  a 
level  stretch  of  coast  beside  the  village. 

Kilkee  is  over  100  miles  from  Cork,  as  the  crow,  or 
aeroplane,  flies.  We  landed  exactly  at  8  :oo  o'clock.  As 
I  stepped  from  my  seat,' I  felt  stiff  and  lame,  but  a  little 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  37 

exercise  straightened  me  out.  Mike  busied  himself  at 
once  with  the  motor.  He  began  unscrewing  the  spark 
plugs  and  overhauling  the  whole  engine. 

Meanwhile  the  crowd  kept  gathering  until,  I  sup- 
pose, in  ten  minutes,  the  entire  town  was  standing  around 
us  open-mouthed.  The  boys  in  the  crowd  closed  in  on 
us  at  once  and  began  asking  all  sorts  of  questions. 
When  we  told  them  we  were  from  America  the  buzz  of 
excitement  grew  louder,  as  they  thought  at  first  that  we 
had  crossed  the  Atlantic,  since  we  came  directly  from 
the  sea.  Mike,  at  last,  explained  that  we  had  only  come 
from  Co>rk  that  morning.  This  was  wonderful  enough 
to  them  and  we  heard  all  kinds  of  exclamations.  "The 
Saints  preserve  us,"  said  one  good  lady,  with  a  shawl 
wrapped  around  her  head,  "what's  the  world  coming 
to?" 

"Begorra,"  said  a  genuine  Irishman,  "I  never 
thought  they  could  make  a  crow  out  of  a  man." 

Some  volunteered  the  information  that  they  had 
sons,  or  brothers,  in  America,  and  it  was  not  long  until 
the  crowd  and  us  were  on  familiar  terms.  We  hired  two 
honest-looking  fellows  to'  watch  the  aeroplane,  and  keep 
the  boys  off  from'  it,  while  we  went  down  the  straggling 
street  of  the  town,  looking  for  a  place  to>  get  some  re- 
freshment. 

A  man,  whom  one  of  the  bystanders  assured  us  was 
"the  bist  man  in  town,"  took  us  in  charge  and  escorted 
us  to  his  own  home.     His  good  wife,  a  kindly,  middle- 


38  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

aged  Irish  woman  of  the  middle  class,  soon  had  a  cup 
of  hot  tea  and  some  "scones"  ready  for  us.  This  was 
our  first  taste  of  Irish  hospitality  and  it  astonished  us. 

We  found  our  host  a  most  companionable  man. 
When  we  explained  our  plans  about  an  aeroplane  trip 
all  around  Ireland,  he  said : 

"You  Americans  can  do  anything." 

Our  host  accompanied  us  back  to  the  airship  where 
there  was  still  the  same  wondering  crowd.  The  twO' 
watchmen  were  busy  keeping  the  little  lads  away  from 
the  machine.  They  helped  Mike  arrange  the  starting 
rail,  and  Mike  and  I  took  our  seats. 

Our  guards  cleared  the  way.  Mike  started  the 
motor,  and  shouted  "Goodbye." 

"Bye-bye,"  shouted  the  crowd,  in  the  heartiest  way. 

"Come  back  again,"  shouted  our  host. 

At  this  a  little  boy  piped  up,  to'  the  amusement  of  us 


all 


"Fly  away  Jack,  fly  away  Jill; 
Come  back  Jack,  come  back  Jill.' 


Amid  cheers  we  arose  lightly  from  the  earth,  and 
were  soon  speeding  once  more  up  the  Clare  coast  to- 
wards Gal  way.      We  left  Kilkee  at  9  :oo  o'clock. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  THRILLING  VISIT  TO  CONNEMARA 

^"^C^C    had  read  of  the  grandeur  of  the  Irish  sea- 
Tf  I)    coast  in  County  Clare,  and  I  asked  Mike  to 
///    keep  as  close  to  the  sea  as  he  could.     He 
"^    obeyed  me  only  too  well,  half  of  the  time 
being  over  the  ocean. 

The  rugged  cliffs  grew  more  and  more  picturesque 
as  we  neared  Hag's  Head.  After  passing  over  this 
promontory,  the  famous  Moher  Cliffs  came  into  view. 
These  are  sheer  precipices,  fully  6001  feet  high,  and,  as 
seen  from  the  ocean,  they  present  a  magnificent  appear- 
ance. In  passing  these  cliffs  our  aeroplane  was  about 
500  feet  above  the  sea,  and  about  100  feet  out  from  land, 
so  that  we  saw  them  to  the  best  advantage.  These  cliffs 
stretch  along  the  coast  for  five  or  six  miles.  From  the 
Moher  Cliffs  we  turned  landward,  in  a  northeastly  direc- 
tion, as  we  wished  to  pass  over  the  city  of  Galway,  and 
enter  the  Connemara  country  from  the  shores  of  Lake 
Corrib. 

The  Clare  farms  seemed  somewhat  better  than 
those  of  Kerry,  but  not  much.  We  saw  many  one- room 
cabins.  For  many  miles  we  flew  about  60  feet  over 
Clare,  and  I  observed  the  country  with  interest.  Clare 
and  Galway  are  the  present  centers  of  unrest  in  Ireland'.. 
There  is  where  "cattle-driving"  is  practised  most.  Fences 


40  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

are  destroyed  and  large  herds  of  cattle,  belonging  to 
some  landlord,  are  scattered  over  the  country  roads. 
The  cause  of  "cattle-driving"  is  the  enmity  of  the  peas- 
ants toward  the  landlords  who  turn  their  estates  into 
vast  grazing  farms,  thus  depriving  the  peasants  of  any 
soil  to  cultivate. 

The  Government  has  tried  to  have  the  landlords 
sell  out  their  estates  to  these  landless  ones,  but  some  re- 
fuse to  do  so,  and  there  is  no  compulsory  legislation  at 
present  in  the  matter  of  landlords  selling  to  tenants. 

As  these  landlords  do-  not  live  in  Ireland  and  have 
little  interest  in  Irish  people  the  Government  is  now 
seeking  remedial  legislation  which  will  compel  the  land- 
lord to  sell  his  estate.  Absentee  landlordism  has  been 
Ireland's  historic  curse  for  centuries.  As  one  Irishman 
expressed  it :  "Ireland  has  been  overrun  with  absentee 
landlords." 

For  many  years  the  English  Government  sought 
merely  to  repress  the  outbreaks  of  the  dissatisfied  Irish. 
Now,  an  honest  attempt  is  being  made  to  cure  the  cause 
of  the  discontent,  and  this  accounts  for  these  Land 
Laws,  which  have  proved  of  such  benefit  already  to  the 
Emerald  Isle. 

Absentee  landlords  are  hard  to  intimidate  by  popu- 
lar outbreaks.  On  one  occasion  the  angry  tenants 
threatened  to  shoot  the  steward  of  a  particularly  obnox- 
ious landlord,  and  the  steward  wrote  about  it  to  his  mas- 
ter in   England.     The  brave   Englishman   promptly  re- 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  41 

plied:  ''Tell  the  tenants  that  no  threat  to  shoot  you  will 
terrify  rne." 

We  reached  Galway  Bay  shortly  after  ten  o'clock 
and  fifteen  minutes  later  we  were  circling-  over  the  an- 
cient city  of  Galway.  Galway  has  been  called  a  Dutch 
city,  and  its  architecture,  as  we  looked  clown  on  it.  did 
seem  more  varied  than  the  usual  plain'  style  of  Irish 
buildings. 

We  created  great  excitement  as  we  circled  over 
the  city  at  a  height  of  150  feet.  The  motor  was  acting 
a  little  erratic  occasionally,  and  I  wanted  Mike  to  alight, 
but  he  disliked  facing  the  curious  crowds. 

''There  are  lots  o>f  bogs  in  County  Galway,"  he  said 
laughingly.  "We  will  light  easy  on  one  of  them  if  the 
motor  stops." 

The  river,  connecting  Lough  Corrib  and  Galway 
Bay,  divides  the  city  into  two  parts,  connected  by  sev- 
eral bridges.  Crowds  rushed  out  on  the  bridges  as  they 
saw  us  fly  overhead.  We  could  hear  them  cheering  and 
some  one  fired  off  a  pistol.  This  frightened  Mike  and  he 
started  toward  Lough  Corrib,-  like  a  wild  duck  which 
had  been  bombarded  by  a  hunter. 

I  saw  a  fine  old  church  in  Galway,  and  I  easily 
recognized  Queen's  College.  It  is  a  noble  Gothic  build- 
ing. 

This  is  one  of  the  three  "godless"  Colleges,  estab- 
lished in  Ireland  by  Queen  Victoria  early  in  her  reign. 
They  are  called  "g-odless"  by  the  Irish  because  they  have 


42  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

no  specific  religious  instruction  in  their  curriculum. 
The  other  Queen's  Colleges  are  located  at  Belfast,  and 
Cork. 

We  were  now  speeding  over  Lough  Corrib,  a  large 
fresh-water  lake,  where  there  is  excellent  fishing.  Mike 
is  a  keen  fisherman  and  his  teeth  watered  as  I  told  him 
of  Lough  Comb's  reputation  amongst  the  disciples  of 
Isaac  Walton. 

A  few  miles  from  Gal  way  we  turned  west  into  the 
heart  of  the  far-famed  Connemara  country.  As  we 
swept  over  this  part  of  Ireland  we  could  see  why  Conne- 
mara is  so  celebrated.  It  makes  a  splendid  panorama. 
There  are  literally  hundreds  of  little  lakes,  there  is  grand 
mountain  scenery,  there  are  the  heather  and  peat  lands 
in  abundance. 

We  were  glad  to  fly  over  it,  however,  rather  than 
live  there,  for  the  monotony  and  barren  soil  repel  a  man 
with  an  active  mind  and  a  good  stomach. 

Men  were  scarce,  but  we  saw  some,  mostly  at  work 
in  the  peat  lands.  We  caught  sight  of  some  Connemara 
women  also,  with  red  skirts,  and  Mike  said  he  thought 
they  were  shoeless. 

We  went  through  the  pass  of  Kylemore,  called  the 
"Gem  of  Connemara."  Two  loity?  peaks  rise  on  each 
side,  and,  in  order  to  avoid  land  currents,  we  had  to-  rise 
to  a  height  oi  500  feet  in  going  through. 

I  was  astonished  to  see  in  this  out-of-the-way  place 
a  magnificent  country  home.     It  was  surrounded  with 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  43 

an  immense  garden,  and  the  walks  and  drives  were  beau- 
tified with  flaming  red  fuchsia  hedges. 

I  hastily  referred  to  my  little  guide  book,  and  found 
it  was  Kylemore  Castle,  and  that  an  American  lady  liv- 
ed there.  She  was  formerly  Miss  Helena  Zimmerman, 
of  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  but  she  fell  from  grace  and  is  now 
known  as  the  Duchess  of  Manchester.  She  must  have 
some  pangs  of  conscience  about  it,  for  no'  live  American 
girl  would  live  in  this  solitary  region  unless  as  an  act  of 
penance  for  her  sins. 

We  (massed  close  enough  to  Clifden,  the  extreme 
western  point  in  Ireland,  to  see  Clifden  Castle,  and  also 
the  Marconi  Station.  Marconi  found  a  resting  place  at 
Clifden  for  the  weary  wireless  messages  after  their  long 
flight  across  the  Atlantic,  and  he  has  a  large  Station 
here.  He  also  found  a  resting  place  at  Clifden  for  his 
weary  heart,  as  he  married  Miss  O'Brien,  a  beauty  of 
Western  Ireland. 

We  could  hear  plainly  the  sending  of  a  wireless  mes- 
sage. It  was  like  a  bombardment,  report  following  re- 
port, like  the  discharge  of  artillery.  Passing  west  of 
the  Twelve  Pins,  a  striking  group  of  mountains,  we  en- 
tered County  Mayo  along  the  seacoast.  Skirting  Mount 
Muilrea,  2,685  ^eet  high,  we  turned  northeast  to  Croagh 
Patrick. 

If  Ireland's  mountains  were  pressed  out,  the  area  of 
the  island  would  be  doubled.     County  Mayo  resembles 


44  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

County  Clare,  and  the  stone  cabins,  little  fields,  and 
winding  roads,  are  all  distinctly  Irish. 

We  were  now  used  to  the  excitement  caused  every- 
where as  we  whirred  over  the  astonished  peasants.  One 
Irishman  in  County  Mayo  amused  us  hugely.  He  must 
have  had  ears  like  an  Indian's,  for  he  heard  our  motor 
while  we  were  fully  a  mile  behind  him.  Turning  sud- 
denly, he  gave  our  aeroplane  one  long  look,  and  then, 
dropping  his  bundle  on  the  road,  he  started  to  run  like  a 
hare,  as  if  to  make  his  escape.  It  may  have  been  his 
conscience  that  troubled  him.  Mike  lowered  the  aero- 
plane until  we  were  not  more  than  25  feet  above  him,  as 
we  shot  directly  over  his  head.  Just  as  we  passed  above 
him  he  let  out  an  unearthly  shriek. 

Perhaps  it  was  a  retributive  act  of  justice,  but,  at 
any  rate,  a  few  moments  later  we  were  a  good  deal  more 
scared  than  the  Irishman. 


CHAPTER  V 

ALMOST  A  DISASTER 

Y  hand  trembles  as  I  recall  Croagh  Patrick, 
fV>>\^  and  our  flight  over  it.  This  mountain  is 
^  '  ^  fully  2,500  feet  high,  and  rises  abruptly 
^^^^  from  the  shores  of  Clew  Bay.  In  many  ways 
it  was  the  most  attractive  mountain  to  me  in  all  Ireland. 
There  is  a -flat  plain,  with  some  ruins,  on  the  top  of  it, 
and  in  former  times  it  was  a  place  of  great  sanctity. 

Saint  Patrick,  after  whom  the  mountain  is  named, 
made  several  pilgrimages  to  its  summit,  and  here  St. 
Patrick  exercised  magic  power  for  Ireland's  welfare. 
Here  is  the  record  in  the  historian's  own  words : 

"St.  Patrick  brought  together  here  all  the  demons, 
toads,  serpents,  and  other  venomous  creatures  in  Ireland 
and  imprisoned  them  in  a  deep  ravine  on  the  sea  front 
of  the  mountain,  known  as  Lugnademon  (the  pit  of  the 
demons)  as  fast  as  they  came  in  answer  to  his  summons, 
and  kept  them  safely  there  until  he  was  ready  to  destroy 
them.  Then,  standing  on  the  summit  of  the  Croagh, 
St.  Patrick,  with  a  bell  in  hand,  cursed  them  and  expell- 
ed them  from  Ireland  for  ever.  And  every  time  he  rang 
the  bell  thousands  of  toads,  adders,  snakes,  reptiles  and 
other  noisome  things  went  down,  tumbling  neck  and 
heels  after  each  other,  and  were  swallowed  up  for  ever 
in  the  sea." 


46  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

As  we  neared  Croagh  Patrick  I  bravely  asked  Mike 
to  sail  over  its  flat  top,  and  see  this  sacred  spot.  Mike 
was  ready  to  do  it  in  a  minute.  He  pulled  the  levers 
and  we  began  to  ascend,  while  still  over  two  miles  dis- 
tant from  the  mountain.  Higher  and  higher  we  went 
when  we  reached  an  altitude  of  2,000  feet,  I  could  feel 
my  heart  begin  to  thump. 

Timing  himself  with  an  accuracy,  which  astonished 
me,  Mike  sailed  over  the  top  of  Croagh  Patrick  about  30 
feet  above  the  flat  plain.  He  circled  around  once  and 
we  passed  close  beside  the  ruin  of  the  ancient  chapel. 
There  is  also<  a  large  Celtic  Cross  standing  upright  on 
the  summit. 

I  was  so  glad  to  have  old  Mother  Earth  so  near 
once  more,  that  I  suggested  that  we  land.  Mike  was 
going  to-  bring  the  aeroplane  down  when  he  remembered 
that  there  was  no  way  toi  rig  up  a  starting  rail  on  the 
top  of  Croagh  Patrick,  and  so  we  kept  on  in  our  flight. 
A  minute  afterwards  I  was  sorry  we  did  not  alight, 
anyhow. 

After  his  second  circle  around  the  flat  plain,  which 
is  half  a  mile  square,  Mike,  started  east,  and  in  a  couple 
of  minutes  the  earth  was  2,500  feet  below  us.  The  sud- 
denness of  the  appearance  of  this  vast  abyss  between  us 
and  land  seemed  even  to  unnerve  Mike  for  a  moment.  I 
almost  collapsed. 

Then  Mike  did  a  foolish  thing.  He  imagined  he 
could  glide  down  from  this  height,  and  he  shut  of  the 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  47 

motor.  We  glided  swiftly  some  300  feet,  and  then  I 
could  feel  the  aeroplane  begin  to  sink  under  us,  What 
happened  I  do  not  just  know.  The  first  intimation  I  had 
of  real  danger  was  Mike's  face  as  he  quickly  turned  to 
start  the  motor.  I  could  hear  the  big  propellers  whiz 
behind  me.  In  starting  the  motor,  Mike  released  a  lever 
for  an  instant.  As  we  were  descending  with  lightning 
speed  this  was  almost  the  cause  of  a  fatal  disaster.  The 
aeroplane  began  to  rock  violently,  and  I  was  almost 
thrown  from  my  seat.  The  accident  to  Orville  Wright 
and  Lieutenant  Selfridge  at  Washington  the  year  before 
flashed  before  my  mind.  I  wondered  if  Mike  could  re- 
gain control  of  the  machine.  I  caught  the  sides  of  my 
seat  and  braced  myself  against  the  foot-rail.  Even  then 
I  had  difficulty  in  holding  on.  I  glanced  at  Mike.  His 
face  was  pale.  His  eyes  shone.  Every  muscle  and 
nerve  was  tense.  He  was  like  a  rider  on  a  runaway 
horse,  determined  to  assert  his  mastery.  His  self-con- 
trol was  prefect. 

In  spite  of  Mike's  coolness  I  am  surprised  we  es- 
caped. As  the  aeroplane  kept  sinking  and  rocking  like 
a  ship  in  a  storm,  I  closed  my  eyes  and  resigned  myself 
to  my  fate.     I  was  aroused  by  Mike's  voice. 

"A  close  call,  Jack,  old  boy,"  he  said  affectionately. 
I  could  see  that  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes.  He  was 
thinking  of  me  and  of  my  escape.  Brave  Mike.  I  want- 
ed to  hug  him  right  there.  I  looked  around  and  saw  we 
were  about  500  feet  above  ground,  the  aeroplane  gliding 
smoothly  through  the  air. 


48  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

It  was  fortunate  for  us  there  was  no  breeze  to 
speak  of.  All  that  morning,  except  for  a  little  while  on 
the  seacoast,  the  wind  gave  us  no  trouble. 

I  was  glad  to  see  Westpoint  a  few  miles  ahead,  as 
we  had  planned  to  stop  there  for  a  lunch,  and  to  replen- 
ish our  supply  of  gasoline,  or  petrol,  as  they  call  it  in 
Ireland. 

One  good  thing  came  out  of  our  Croagh  Patrick 
experience.  I  began  to  help  Mike  in  operating  the  aero- 
plane. I  took  entire  charge  of  the  motor,  which  I  could 
reach  more  readily  than  he  could,  at  any  rate.  This 
left  him  free  to  manage  the  levers.  He  was  the  captain 
and  gave  all  orders,  but  I  started  and  stopped  the  motor 
the  rest  of  our  trip. 

I  found  this  of  advantage  to  me,  especially  after 
the  rapid  descent  from  Croagh  Patrick,  as  it  gave  me 
something  to  do,  and,  when  not  engaged  watching  the 
scenery,  or  consulting  my  map  or  guide-book,  I  could 
busy  myself  with  the  motor. 

We  had  other  exciting  incidents,  but  this  division 
of  labor  assisted  us  in  keeping  the  aeroplane  completely 
under  our  control — as  long  as  the  motor  worked. 


CHAPTER  VI 

FROM  WESTPOINT  TO  ENNISKILLEN 

IKE  made  an  excellent    landing    in  an  open 
\>7^    space  in  a  beautiful  park  beside  Westpoint. 
(T,  <3)    A   small   crowd   soon   gathered     around     us 

^^^^  wnen  we  lit,  but  Mike  and  I  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  them.  I  stepped  out  on  the  ground  and  looked 
at  my  watch.  It  was  one  o'clock.  We  had  been  in  the 
air  four  hours.  Mike  felt  the  strain  of  this  long  aerial 
journey  also,  but  not  so  much  as  I  did.  He  was  more 
accustomed  to  aeroplaning. 

Our  motor  had  been  acting  well,  on  the  whole.  It; 
was  a  new  style  motor,  without  carburetor,  and  I  had 
been  suspicious  of  it,  but  it  surpassed  any  motor  I  had 
ever  seen  in  reliability. 

We  had  just  finished  stretching  out  our  tired  limbs, 
when  a  middle-aged  man,  with  a  kindly,  honest  face,  but 
an  important  air,  came  hurrying  along  the  driveway  of 
the  park  in  our  direction. 

We  heard  several  in  the  crowd  exclaim :  "The 
Keeper,  the  Keeper."  The  new  comer  looked  at  us  in 
astonishment  and  then  he  inspected  our  aeroplane.  Then 
he  looked  at  us  again,  and  exclaimed :  "By  the  Powers," 

We  did  not  know  what  kind  of  a  salutation  this 
might  be,  but  Mike  told  what  we  were  doing  and  why 
we  had  alighted  in  the  Park. 


50  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

The  "Keeper,"  as  they  called  him,  at  once  became 
friendly  and  introduced  himself  as  the  Steward  of  the 
Marquis  of  Sligo,  in  whose  park  we  had  alighted  and 
whose  mansion  was  close  at  hand.  The  Steward  resided 
at  the  mansion,  as  the  Marquis  did  not  spend  much  time 
on  his  Irish  estate. 

He  invited  us  to  come  up  to*  the  mansion,  which  in- 
vitation we  gladly  accepted.  Following  the  Steward, 
we  soon  arrived  at  the  stately  home  of  the  Marquis  of 
Sligo*,  who  owns  the  greater  part  of  this  section  of  Ire- 
land. He  is  an  absentee  landlord,  but  he  comes  to  West- 
point  occasionally,  and  he  treats  his  tenants  liberally, 
for  an  Irish  landlord.  The  large  park  around  his 
mansion  is  open  to  all  Westporters.  We  noticed,  from 
the  signs,  that  automobiles  were  not  allowed  to  enter 
the  park,  but  aeroplanes  were  not  excluded,  at  least,  not 
yet. 

The  Steward  served  us  a  good  lunch,  and  sent  a 
boy  with  a  pony-cart  to  town  to  get  the  petrol.  The 
Sligo  Mansion  is  luxuriously  furnished,  and  Mike  and  I 
felt  like  royal  travellers. 

The  Steward's  kindness  was  explained  when  he  be- 
gan to  talk  about  America.  He  had  two  brothers  in  the 
New  World,  and  told  us  that  tens  of  thousands  of  Irish- 
men from  County  Mayo  and  County  Galway  had  left 
Ireland  for  America  in  the  past  twenty  years. 

Westport  is  the  most  westerly  town  in  Ireland,  and 
is  only  1,600  miles  from  Nova  Scotia.     At  one  time  it 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  51 

was  proposed  to  run  a  line  of  steamers  from  here  to 
America,  but  the  project  fell  through. 

We  would  like  to  have  spent  a  day  or  two  around 
Westport,  but  we  still  thought  we  could  reach  the 
Giant's  Causeway  that  evening,  although  I  was  begin- 
ning to  think  that  Antrim  was  quite  a  long  ways  off. 

The  Steward  showed  us  around  the  gardens  and 
grounds,  and  even  offered  to  drive  us  over  the  town, 
but  we  were  anxious  to  get  started  in  the  air  again  and 
we  declined.  It  was  2  :oo  o'clock  when  we  had  the 
starting  rail  in  place  and  had  everything  in  readiness  for 
another  flight. 

An  immense  crowd  had  gathered  around  the  aero- 
plane. They  made  few  remarks,  evidently  restrained 
by  the  presence  of  the  steward,  for  whom  they  showed 
much  respect.  One  or  two  did  volunteer  an  Irish  fare- 
well. 

'Ah,  then,"  said  one  old  woman,  "it's  not  often  we 
have  the  blessing  of  such  fine  company,  good  luck  to 
your  honors,  and  God  send  you  safe  back  again." 

"Good-bye,"  said  a  good-natured  Son  of  Erin,  with 
the  map  of  Ireland  all  over  his  face.  "Good-bye,  and  I 
hope  ye  can  kape  on  your  feet  until  you  land  agin." 

"God  bless  you,  sors,"  said  the  Steward,  "and  keep 
you  safe  and  bring  you  back." 

One  gets  used  to  hearing  the  name  of  Deity  in  Ire- 
land, but  it  does  not  shock  you.  The  Irish  use  God's 
name     familiarly,    but   reverently;     not   lightly,    as    in 


52  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

France;  or  vulgarly,  as  so  often  in  America.  No  one 
calls  on  God  to  damn  you  in  Ireland.  God  is  appealed 
to  for  blessing. 

"Good-bye/'  Mike  and  I  shouted,  as  we  rose  in  the 
air.  The  crowd  broke  out  in  cheers,  as  we  sailed  away 
toward  County  Sligo. 

We  crossed  several  lakes  and  much  enjoyed  the  rest 
of  our  flight  over  County  Mayo,  but  it  is  not  a  desirable 
part  of  Ireland  in  which  to  till  the  soil.  We  passed  over 
a  pretty  little  town  on  a  railroad,  called  Castlebar.  We 
entered  County  Sligo  near  Swineford. 

Just  after  entering  County  Sligo,  Mike  said  to  me: 

"Where's  our  sunshine?" 

I  looked  around.  The  entire  sky  was  overcast. 
We  were  having  the  usual  experience  with  the  Irish 
weather,  which  some  one  has  said  is  as  changeable  as 
the  Irish  character.  Smiles  and  tears  come  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice. 

The  clouds  soon  got  to  work  and  it  began  to  driz- 
zle. Passing  over  Sligo  we  could  see  the  farms  improve, 
and  when  we  reached  County  Leitrim,  which  we  entered 
near  Lake  Allen,  we  could  see  a  marked  improvement. 
The  soil  was  fertile,  the  farms  and  houses  were  larger,, 
and  there  was  a  general  air  of  prosperity  apparent. 

Our  aeroplane  whizzed  through  the  misty,  rainy  at- 
mosphere, like  an  ocean  liner  through  a  fog,  but  as  the 
upper  plane  got  soaked  through,  it  began  to1  leak  down 
on  us,  and  the  water-logged  planes  made  the  machine 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  53 

more  difficult  to  control.  Mike  told  me  that  the  airship 
was  not  built  for  Irish  weather,  but  he  afterwards  rem- 
edied this  defect,  as  we  shall  see. 

When  we  reached  County  Fermanaugh  we  began 
to  realize  Ireland's  agricultural  possibilities.  Ulster  is 
a  different  world  from  Connaught.  The  landscape  is 
rolling,  covered  with  cultivated  farms.  The  houses  are 
often  two-storied,  slated,  and  neatly  kept.  There  are 
large  barns  and  every  appearance  of  prosperity.  The 
picture  presented  to  us  in  Ulster  was  not  so  romantic  as 
in  Connemara,  but  it  is  more  like  living.  In  many 
parts  of  Connaught  a  crow  would  need  to  have  its  ra- 
tions along,  but  there  are  signs  of  plenty  in  Ulster.  We 
could  well  understand  why  the  Irish  did  not  altogether 
approve  of  the  grimi  Oliver's  dictum :  "To  Connaught 
with  every  Irishman." 

The  inhabitants  of  the  North  of  Ireland  are  also 
different  from  the  Irish  of  the  West.  They  are  largely 
Protestant  in  religion  and  of  Scotch  descent.  Their 
forefathers  were  brought  to  Ireland  by  James  L,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  17th  century.  Several  of  the  English 
rulers  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  history  of  Ireland. 
Henry  VIII. ,  Queen  Elizabeth,  Oliver  Cromwell,  and 
James  I.,  had  extensive  real  estate  dealings  in  the  Emer- 
ald Isle  in  years  gone  by,  and  when  they  had  completed 
their  bargains  the  map  of  Ireland  was  altered  and 
the  feelings  of  many  of  the  Irish  were  badly  lacerated. 
It  has  taken  centuries  for  these  wounded  feelings  to  heal. 


54  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

It  was  after  four  o'clock  when  we  sighted  the  chim- 
neys of  Enniskillen.  This  prosperous  town  is  built  on 
Lake  Erne,  or  Lough  Erne,  as  the  natives  call  it.  Lough 
Erne  is  another  of  Ireland's  large  fresh-water  lakes. 
Enniskillen  is  famous  as  the  city  which,  like  Londonderry 
endured  victoriously  a  siege  in  1689,  the  year  of  the 
commotion  between  James  II.  and  William  III.  Its 
defenders  manifested  the  greatest  bravery.  The  banners 
captured  at  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne,  where  William  IIL 
defeated  James  II.,  hang  in  Enniskillen's  Town  Hall. 

Tired  and  wet,  I  seconded  heartily  Mike's  sugges- 
tion that  we  spend  the  night  here.  I  felt  that  I  could 
not  fly  another  mile.  We  came  down  rather  abruptly 
in  a  field  near  town.  The  water-soaked  aeroplane  had 
become  hard  to  control,  and  we  narrowly  missed  a  big 
hawthorn  hedge.  A  farm  house  was  near  by,  and  the 
farmer  came  running  to  us,  followed  by  a  little  crowd 
of  children  of  all  ages.  After  explanations,  we  turned 
the  aeroplane  over  to-  him  for  the  night,  and  trudged 
into  town.  Walking  seemed  pleasant  to  us  both,  as  we 
had  been  flying  for  a  whole  day.  In  spite  of  the  misty 
rain,  we  enjoyed  every  step  of  our  mile  walk  to  the  Royal 
Hotel.  We  had  a  good  Irish  supper,  or  "tea,"  as  they 
called  it,  and  soon  afterwards  we  retired  for  the  night. 

The  day  ended  perhaps  a  little  ingloriously,  but  we 
were  well  content. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  DAY  IN  ENNISKILLEN 

HEN  we  woke  up  late  the  next  morning  the 
*§&)  \  sun  was  shining  in  at  the  windows.  We 
congratulated  ourselves  on  having  escaped 
the  bad  weather  of  the  previous  evening, 
and  we  expected  to  again  enjoy  the  sight  of  Ireland's 
green  fields  lit  up  with  sunshine. 

When  I  arose  I  felt  quite  stiff  and  sore,  and  I  saw 
Mike  moved  around  with  more  than  his  usual  precision. 
The  prolonged  flight  of  the  previous  day  had  wearied  us 
considerably.  Some  aeronauts  may  wonder  we  could 
make  such  a  long  flight,  but  straight,  cross-country  aero- 
planing  differs  much  from  circling  a  mile  track.  The 
aeroplane  is  not  so  comfortable  as  a  dirigible  balloon, 
and  a  flight  like  Count  Zeppelin's  recent  cross-country 
trip  in  Europe  would  be  quite  strenuous  in  the  heavier- 
than-air  machines  at  present.  But  a  journey  of  300  or 
400  miles  a  day,  with  proper  stops,  does  not  call  for  any 
extraordinary  endurance. 

As  we  came  down  stairs  to  breakfast  we  heard  a 
band  out  on  the  street  and  we  noticed  an  air  of  excite- 
ment on  every  hand.  We  thought,  at  first,  that  we  were 
the  occasion  of  the  evident  agitation,  hut  a  waiter  soon 
showed  us  that  there  were  greater  things,  even,  than 
aeroplanists  in  Ireland  on  that  day. 


56  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

"It's  a  foine  Twelfth  of  July/*'  he  said  to  us. 

"What  about  the  Twelfth  of  July?"  asked  Mike. 

The  waiter  stared  at  him,  until  Mike  went  on : 

"What's  going  on  here  today?" 

Then  the  waiter,  seeing  we  were  ignorant  Americans 
explained  to  us  how  they  celebrated  the  victory  of  the 
Boyne  every  Twelfth  of  July,  and  how  the  celebration 
that  day  was  to  be  the  biggest  ever  held.  Then  I  re- 
membered how  the  great  day  in  the  North  of  Ireland  is 
the  Twelfth  of  July,  just  as  the  Seventeenth  of  March  is 
the  great  day  in  the  rest  of  Ireland.  However,  St. 
Patrick's  Day  is  now  generally  observed  in  some  way 
not  only  in  Ireland,  but  in  all  the  world. 

"Mike,"  said  I,  kklet  us  stay  in  Enniskillen  today 
and  celebrate." 

"We'll  stay  and  rest,"  said  Mike,  "and  see  what 
they  do  here  on  the  "glorious  Twelfth",  as  our  waiter 
calls  it." 

After  breakfast  we  went  out  on  the  streets,  and 
found  them  filling  up  with  a  holiday  crowd.  I  was 
reminded  of  a  celebration  of  July  Fourth  in  America. 
Excursion  trains  coming  in  from  different  points  in  the 
surrounding  territory  added  to'  the  crowd  every  hour. 
These  excursion  parties  brought  with  them  in  every  case 
one  or  two  fife  bands,  and  occasionally  a  brass  band. 
These  bands  played  popular  airs  to  the  great  delight  of 
the  crowd.  All  these  numerous  bands,  and  the  immense 
crowd  of  Irishmen  and  Irish  women,  gathered  in  a  large 
field  beside  Enniskillen.     It  was  a  scene  of  the  greatest 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  57 

enthusiasm.  Bands  in  different  parts  of  the  field  were 
playing  different  airs.  All  was  hub-bub  and  excitement. 
There  were  stands  all  around  where  all  kinds  of  drinks 
were  sold.  Already  several  plainly  showed  that  they  had 
been  drinking  a  liquid  much  stronger  than  lemonade. 
Lads  and  lasses  were  walking  around,  jostling,  crowding 
and  laughing.  It  was  a  good-natured  crowd,  as  there 
was  no  counter-demonstration  of  any  kind,  as  happens 
sometimes  in  other  parts  of  Ireland,  I  understand.  The 
differences  between  the  Roman  Catholic  and  Protestant 
are  very  acute  in  the  Emerald  Isle  for  several  reasons. 
Often  the  two  sides  have  bitter  disputes.  In  this  con- 
troversy, as  in  all  else,  the  inevitable  humor  of  the 
Irish  sometimes  crops  out.  The  famous  Father  O'Leary 
had  a  polemical  contest  with  the  Protestant  Bishop  of 
Cloyne.  The  Bishop,  in  a  pamphlet,  inveighed  with 
great  acrimony  against  the  doctrines  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  and  particularly  against  purgatory. 

Father  O'Leary,  in  his  reply,  slyly  observed,  "that, 
much  as  the  Bashop  disliked  purgatory,  he  might  go 
farther  and  fare  worse." 

When  Dean  Swift  was  at  Carlow,  he  found  the 
Episcopal  Church  badly  dilapidated.  "Why  don't  you 
give  it  to  the  Catholics?"  said  the  caustic  Dean.  "You 
know  they  would  repair  it  and  you  could  take  it  from 
them  afterwards"  It  is  not  theology  alone  that  separates 
Catholics  and  Protestants  in  Ireland.  The  real  estate 
deals  of  the  English  Kings  and  Queens  have  something 
to  do  with  it. 


58  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

We  enjoyed  immensely  our  day  in  Enniskillen.  We 
saw  a  typical  North  of  Ireland  crow.d,  heard  an  Irish 
orator  declaim  against  "the  foes  of  Ireland,"  listened  to 
Irish  bands,  and  shared  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  occasion. 
There  was  an  excursion  steamer  running  on  Lough  Erne 
and  in  the  afternoon  we  had  a  delightful  boat  ride.  In 
the  evening,  while  at  supper,  we  had  a  sample  of  real 
Irish  wit.  There  was  a  large  sign  in  the  dining  room 
with  this  notice:  "Strangers  are  requested  not  to  give 
any  money  to  the  waiters,  as  attention  is  charged  for 
in  the  bill." 

Our  waiter  saw  Mike  reading  this  sign,  and  re- 
marked to*  himi : 

"Oh,  Mister,  sure  that  doesn't  concern  you  at  all. 
We're  not  makm'  a  stranger  o3  you,  sor." 

We  laughed  heartily,  and  told  him  we  never  felt 
more  at  home  in  our  lives.  "Tips"  are  as  necessary 
in  Ireland,  even  when  traveling  with  an  aeroplane,  as 
raincoats. 

We  had  been  informed  that  we  would  find  wretched 
hotels  in  Ireland,  but  the  Imperial  Hotel  at  Cork  and  the 
Royal  Hotel  at  Enniskillen,  are  excellent  hotels,  and,  as 
a  rule,  we  found  the  hotel  accommodations  satisfactory. 
In  the  evening,  before  dark,  we  sauntered  forth,  and 
Mike  went  into  a  "shop,"  as  they  call  stores  in  Erin, 
and  bought  out  their  entire  supply  of  light  oil-cloth. 
Taking  this  with  us,  we  went  out  to  see  our  aeroplane. 
In  the  excitement  of  July  Twelfth,  the  news  of  our 
strange  craft  evidently  did  not  spread  very  wide,  and  we 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  59 


were  very  glad  to  escape  notoriety  in  Enniskillen.  We 
found  the  airship  just  as  we  left  it  the  previous  night. 
The  farmer  wondered  what  had  become  of  us.  Mike 
got  some  tacks  and  a  hammer,  and  covered  the  upper 
plane  entirely  with  oil-cloth. 

"Even  an  airship  needs  a  raincoat  in  this  country," 
said  Mike  to  the  farmer. 

"But,  sor,"  said  the  farmer,  "it's  such  a  gentle  rain 
we  have  here." 

The  oil-cloth  was  quite  a  good  idea  on  the  part  of 
Mike.  It  gave  us  both  a  big  umbrella  during  the  rest 
of  our  trip,  and  the  sudden  showers  were  not  so 
disagreeable. 

The  next  morning  we  started  at  5  :oo  o'clock,  and 
after  rewarding  our  farmer  friend  for  his  care  of  the 
aeroplane,  we  ascended  into  the  Irish  atmosphere  again. 
After  circling  over  Enniskillen,  we  turned  North,  and, 
leaving  Lough  Erne  far  to  the  West,  we  sped,  like  a 
gigantic   eagle,   towards   Tyrone. 


CHAPTERjVIII 

CIRCLING  OVER  LONDONDERRY  IN  AN  AREOPLANE 

E  were  almost  an  hour  in  reaching  Omagh, 
^5^  \\  the  county  seat  of  County  Tyrone.  As  we 
flew  over  the  city  we  were  surprised  to  see 
how  new-looking  it  was  in  appearance,  as 
it  is  one  of  Ireland's  oldest  towns,  I  learned  later  that 
the  old  town  had  been  destroyed  some  two  hundred 
years  ago,  and  that  Omagh  of  today  is  comparatively 
modern.  It  is  a  neat  and  prosperous  city,  with  streets, 
some  of  them  very  steep',  running  in  every  direction. 
A  beautiful  Cathedral  adorns  the  hillside,  and  an  old 
barracks,  now  used  as  a  police  station,  is  an  imposing 
structure.  There  are  several  large  Presbyterian  churches 
which  show  every  sign  of  progress  and  prosperity. 
There  were  only  a  few  people  on  the  streets  when  we 
winged  our  way  across  the  city  at  6:00  o'clock.  These 
stared  up  at  us  and  we  could  see  them  running  to  the 
high  places  to  keep  us  in  sight.  The  farms  in  County 
Tyrone  looked  large  compared  with  the  microscopic 
farms  of  Connaught  and  Kerry,  but  they  looked  very 
small  to  an  American.  Thei  macadamized  roads  are 
models  in  the  way  they  are  kept  up,  but  they  are  narrow 
and  winding.  When  the  wagon  roads  cross  a  railroad, 
there  is  never  a  grade  crossing.     Generally  the  wagon 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  61 

road  runs  over  the  railroad,  but  occasionally  dips  under 
it. 

We  had  another  exciting  experience  with  an  early 
train  from  Omagh  to  Derry.  We  caught  up  with  this 
train  at  Newtonstewart,  a  picturesque  little  place.  The 
engineer  saw  us,  and,  like  his  fellow-Irishman  in  County 
Kerry,  he  tooted  his  whistle  in  our  honor.  We  flew 
alongside  the  train  for  several  miles,  about  ioo  feet 
from  the  side  of  the  track,  and  30  feet  high  in  the  air. 
As  the  race  continued,  every  passenger  grew  more  and 
more  excited.  They  cheered  and  shouted.  Mike,  with 
both  his  hands  on  his  levers,  could  only  look  down  and 
grin,  but  I  was  able  to  wave  my  handkerchief  and  cap. 
The  engineer  gave  one  long,  farewell  toot,  as  he  stopped 
at  a  station,  while  we  flew  on  our  way. 

At  Strabane,  a  good-sized  town,  some  twenty  miles 
from  Londonderry,  we  created  wild  excitement.  A 
number  of  people  were  around  the  station,  as  we  whizzed 
past,  just  about  20  feet  in  the  air,  directly  over  the 
railroad  tracks.  We  rose  to-  a  height  of  J$  feet  just 
after  passing  the  station,  and  we  could  hear  their  loud 
cheering,  as  we  rose  like  a  bird.  The  river  Foyle  formed 
at  Strabane  by  the  junction  of  the  rivers  Finn  and 
Mourne,  flows  from  Strabane  to>  Derry  (as  Londonderry 
is  called  by  the  natives)   a  wide  and  noble  stream. 

Mike  turned  the  aeroplane  directly  over  the  river 
after  we  left  Strabane,  and  we  flew  above  it  for  many 
miles.  This  Foyle  Valley  is  a  rich  agricultural  country, 
and   I   could    see  the  crops   o<f  oats,    flax,   turnips,   and 


62  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

potatoes,  growing  in  luxuriance  in  the  fertile  little  fields. 
About  half  way  between  Strabane  and  Derry  our  motor 
gave  us  the  first  serious  trouble.  While  we  were  sailing 
along  over  the  river,  all  at  once  it  stopped,  like  a  balky 
horse. 

"Start  the  motor,  Jack,"  Mike  yelled,  thinking  I 
had  shut  her  off. 

"It  stopped  itself,"  I  answered. 

"Gee-whitaker,"  said  Mike,  and  I  could  see  him 
tug  at  the  levers  in  order  to  turn  the  airship  towards 
the  shore  and  bring  it  safely  to  the  ground.  Fortunately 
we  were  quite  high  in  the  air,  fully  200  feet,  and  we 
were  only  a  short  distance  from  the  east  bank  of  the 
river.  In  a  few  seconds  Mike  had  brought  us  down 
safely,  a  few  yards  from  the  river's  edge,  on  the  flat 
embankment.  Mike  soon  remedied  the  trouble — a  screw 
had  loosened.  How  to  get  started  again  was  now  our 
problem,  as  we  needed  some  kind  of  starting  rail.  Some 
men  around  a  group  of  houses  a  short  distance  away, 
saw  us,  and  came  running  with  all  speed.  They  stared 
and  gaped  at  us  without  saying  a  word.  Mike  spoke 
to1  one  of  them,  and  explaining  onr  trouble,  asked  him  to 
get  a  long  stout  board,  to  use  as  a  starting  rail.  The 
rustic  ran  back  to  the  cottages,  and  soon  returned  with  a 
good1  board,  which  Mike  soon  turned  into  a  starting  rail. 
Meanwhile,  his  companions  began  to  make  remarks,  in 
true  Irish  style,  about  the  aeroplane. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  63 

"Isn't  that  a  new  way  to  'hoof  if?"  said  a  fellow 
with  an  Irish  cast  of  countenance. 

"Let  us  get  one,  and  then  we  can  fly  to  America," 
said  one  of  the  youngest  of  them,  a  lad  about  eighteen 
years  of  age.  The  young  fellows  in  rural  Ireland  all 
look  upon  America  as  the  Eldorado  of  the  world. 

One  of  them  said  to  me :  "I  should  think,  sor,  your 
air-boat   would  be  lonesome  in   Ireland." 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"Because."  said  Erin's  son,  "it's  the  only  one  in 
the  whole  country,  sor." 

"Come  back  again,  sors,"  one  of  them  shouted  as 
we  arose  from  the  earth  to  continue  our  journey.  We 
noticed  this  is  a  familiar  parting  phrase  in  Erin. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  we  saw  the  smoke  of 
Derry.  In  spite  of  our  recent  mishaps,  Mike  steered 
right  into  the  middle  of  the  Foyle,  as  we  came  close 
to  the  city.  At  Derry  the  river  is  spanned  by  a  fine 
iron  bridge.  As  we  passed  over  this  bridge,  about 
twenty  feet  above  it,  we  frightened  a  passing  horse  into 
a  runaway,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  a  crowd  of 
laborers,  who  were  crossing  the  bridge.  Speeding  on 
down  the  Foyle,  we  saw  below  us  the  masts  and  funnels 
of  a  number  of  ships,  for  Derry  is  an  important  seaport. 
Along  the  clocks  crowds  of  working  men  greeted  us 
with  shouts,  and  some  of  the  steamers  sent  us  a  scream 
of  whistles.  I  was  much  interested  in  old  Derry.  I  had 
visited  it  often  before,  and,  when  we  reached  the  end  of 
the  docks,  I  asked  Mike  to  circle  clear  around  the  citv. 


64  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

We  rose  to  a  height  of  300  feet,  and  the  famous  city  lay 
under  us,  like  a  picture.  We  could  see  the  historic  walls 
which  enclosed  the  ancient  city,  about  a  mile  in  circum- 
ference, and  still  adorned  with  many  antique  cannon. 
The  well-remembered  siege  of  Derry  happened  in  1689, 
when  James  II.  besieged  the  city  for  105  clays,  and  the 
gallant  defenders  were  reduced  to  the  greatest  extremi- 
ties. To  make  matters  worse,  Colonel  Lundy,  who 
commanded  the  garrison,  turned  traitor,  and  opened 
negotiations  with  the  besiegers.  His  treachery  wTas 
discovered,  and  he  made  his  escape  in  disguise.  Rev.  Geo. 
Walker,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  siege,  has  been  remem- 
bered with  a  fine  monument,  built  on  one  of  the  bastions 
of  the  wall.  On  this  monument,  every  December  18th, 
an  effigy  o'f  the  traitor,  Lundy,  is  burned  amid  great 
cheering  by  the  descendants  of  the  old  defenders  of 
Derry.  Derry  Cathedral  has  interesting  relics  of  this 
famous  siege,  but  it  is  not  a  noteworthy  building  from 
an  architectural  viewpoint. 

Derry  is  now  quite  an  educational  centre.  Foyle 
College  is  a  prosperous  institution  with  a  pleasant  loca- 
tion, overlooking  the  river.  Magee  College,  a  Presby- 
terian institution,  is  beautifully  located  on  a  high  hill 
north  of  the  city.  The  architecture  of  the  building  is 
stately,  and  this  seat  of  learning  is  an  important  part  of 
modern  Derry.  A  large  number  of  the  Irish  Presby- 
terian ministers  are  educated  here. 

We  could  see  the  large  shirt  factories,  which  bring 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  65 

much  wealth,  and  lots  of  women  into  Derry.     Most  of 
the  employees  are  women. 

The  town  on  the  east  side  of  the  Foyle  is  called 
Waterside.  There  is  a  high  bluff,  just  south  of  Water- 
side, which  is  covered  with  villas  owned  by  prosperous 
Derrymen.  WTe  passed  over  a  large  military  barracks 
at  the  north  end  of  Waterside.  Evidently,  some  of  the 
officers  in  the  barracks  had  been  watching  our  flight 
around  the  city,  and  they  were  ready  for  us.  As  we 
swept  over  the  barrack  square,  three  large  guns  were 
suddenly  discharged,  in  our  honor,  we  suppose.  Mike 
was  so  astonished  at  the  sudden  reports  that  he  uncon- 
sciously pulled  a  lever,  making  the  aeroplane  veer  sharply 
so  that  it  began  to  rock.  He  had  it  under  control  again 
in  a  moment,  but  we  could  hear  the  cheering  of  the  red- 
coated  soldiers,  as  they  noticed  our  maneuvers. 

We  sailed  on,  sorry  to  leave  the  historic  Maiden 
City  (as  Derry  is  proudly  called  because  it  was  ^re- 
captured.) Shortly  after  passing  the  barracks,  we 
turned  east,  sailing  over  a  number  of  delightful  country 
homes.  Two  miles  east  of  Derry  we  passed  over  the 
lovely  valley  of  the  Faughan  river.  This  beautiful  spot 
was  one  of  the  finest  scenes  we  found  in  the  whole  north 
of  Ireland.  It  was  a  valley  filled  with  peace,  quietness 
and  sunshine  that  morning.  We  went  as  far  east  as 
Dungiven,  a  small  country  town  about  the  centre  of 
County  Derry.  Many  modern  mansions  adorn  the 
countryside,  and  the  fertile  soil  well  repays  its  careful 
cultivation. 


66  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

"Look  at  the  rain,"  said  Mike,  as  we  turned  north 
from  Dungiven. 

And  raining  it  was.  While  I  was  gazing  down  on 
Derry's  green  fields  and  lovely  rivers,  the  clouds  were 
hastily  gathering  overhead,  and  threatening  all  kinds 
of  things.  Soon  the  rain  was  pattering  down  upon 
our  aeroplane,  but  it  fell  harmlessly  on  our  rain-coated 
airship.  It  was  only  a  shower,  but  while  it  lasted  the 
rain  came  down  in  a  hurry.  As  an  Irishman  would  put 
it,  some  of  the  drops  were  "as  big  as  a  shilling  or  eigh- 
teen pence."  In  a  little  while  the  sudden  tempest  had  spent 
itself,  and  the  sun  was  shining  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

We  followed  a  small  stream,  called  the  Roe,  to 
Limavady.  which  we  reached  a  little  after  eight  o'clock. 
We  had  planned  to<  stop  here  for  sonie  refreshments  for 
ourselves,  and  our  faithful  "bird,"  and  Mike  was  de- 
lighted to<  see  a  large  level  field  near  the  town,  where 
he  made  a  good  descent,  alighting  without  a  jar.  In  five 
minutes,  people  were  running  towards  us  in  all  direc- 
tions. We  had  circled  the  little  town  before  alighting, 
and  had  aroused  everybody.  They  crowded  around  us 
as  at  Kilkee,  and  soon  began  asking  all  kinds  of  ques- 
tions. We  satisfied  them  as  best  we  could,  hired  a  watch- 
man to  guard  the  aeroplane,  and,  accompanied  by  a  mot- 
ley following,  we  walked  into  Limavady. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ALIGHTING  AT  THE  GIANT'S  CAUSEWAY 

E  ascended  from  Limavady  at  8 :3c  We 
*$)  \  were  once  more  cheered  to  the  echo  as  we 
left  the  earth.  After  leaving  Limavady,  we 
came  to  a  low  range  of  hills,  and  Mike  had 
to-  use  his  raising  levers  freely  as  we  climbed  their  sides. 
We  saw  the  familiar  heather  and  peat,  and  even  the  little 
cabins,  much  the  same  as  we  saw  in  County  Mayo.  At 
the  top  of  the  hills  we  had  a  magnificent  view.  We 
could  see  Coleraine  clearly,  nestling  beside  the  Bann 
river,  and,  away  in  the  distance,  we  saw  again  the  sea. 
The  surrounding  country  was  like  a  panorama.  We 
glided  swiftly  down  the  mountain  side,  and  flew  around 
the  quaint  old  town  of  Coleraine.  Scotch-Irishmen  live 
in  Coleraine,  and  it  has  the  reputation  of  having  the 
best  bakers  in  the  whole  island.  Mike  and  I  did  not 
condescend  to  test  this,  although  it  was  perhaps  as  well 
for  us  not  to  alight  there,  for  Coleraine  is  famous  for 
something  besides  bread.  Fine  old  Coleraine  whisky 
is  known  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Ireland. 
A  Donegal  clergyman,  on  hearing  of  a  sermon  against 
drink,  said:  "Sure,  I  am  forever  at  them  about  it.  It's 
the  bad  stuff  they  take  that  does  the  mischief.  I  have 
told  them  from  the  altar  that  I  never  touched  a  drop 
myself  but  the  best  Coleraine/' 


68  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Sky-pilots,  whether  spiritual  or  atmospheric,  have 
to  leave  whisky  alone  nowadays,  so,  in  spite  of  its  fame, 
we  merely  circled  over  the  city.  Coleraine  is  known  for 
many  centuries  in  Irish  history.  St.  Patrick  built  a 
church  here.  Columba  visited  it  in  590.  Later  on  the 
salmon  fishing  in  the  river  Bann,  which  flowed  through 
the  city,  made  Coleraine  a  place  of  some  commercial  im- 
portance. Like  Derry  and  Enniskillen,  Coleraine  was  be- 
sieged in  1689  by  the  troops  of  James  II.,  and  the 
garrison  was  compelled  to  evacuate  the  town,  and  retreat 
to>  Derry. 

After  passing  over  Coleraine,  we  came  to  the  sea- 
coast  again  at  Portstewart.  I  could  see  the  row  of 
houses  along  the  quay,  in  one  of  which  Lever  used  to>  live. 
Lever's  home  was  in  Dublin,  but  he  spent  a  year  as  a 
dispensary  doctor  at  Portstewart,  and  did  some  writing 
here.  A  stiff  breeze  was  blowing  along  the  coast,  and 
Mike  was  kept  busy  handling  the  airship.  Leaving 
Portstewart,  we  went  along  the  rough  coast  to  Portrush. 
This  was  formerly  a  dreaded  coast,  many  a  brave  ship 
going  to  pieces  on  the  rocks.  Portrush  is  the  fashionable 
watering  place  of  the  North  of  Ireland,  and  it  is  crowded 
with  visitors  during  July  and  August.  The  town  is 
built  on  a  ridge  that  projects  into  the  sea.  The  strands 
are  beautiful.  The  ridge  on  which  the  town  is  built 
ends  in  a  hill,  called  Ramore  hill,  which  is  a  favorite 
promenade.  We  could  see  the  bathers  swimming  in  the 
surf,  as  we  skimmed  along  the  strand  towards  the  White 
Rocks.     These  are  cliffs  of  a  strange  white  formation. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  69 


A  little  beyond  the  White  Rocks  Mike  slowed  up,  and 
passed  around  the  picturesque  ruins  of  Dunluce  Castle, 
This  ancient  ruin  crowns  a  high  cliff,  and.,  before  men 
could  fly,  was  a  difficult  place  to  reach.  Right  in  front 
of  us  we  could  see  the  headlands  above  the  Giant's 
Causeway.  I  did  not  very  much  enjoy  my  sail  from 
Dunluce  to  those  headlands.  After  leaving  the  Castle, 
Mike  turned  directly  out  to  sea,  instead  of  following  the 
coast,  and  crossed  a  bay  of  a  few  miles  to  the  Causeway. 
I  remembered  our  experience  over  the  river  Foyle,  and 
I  did  not  altogether  appreciate  Mike's  daring.  I  was 
really  relieved  as  we  rose  over  the  great  cliff  that  over- 
hangs the  Causeway,  and  circled  around  with  the  earth 
under  us.  We  were  both  delighted  to. reach  the  Northern 
end  of  the  Island.  It  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock  when  we 
arrived. 

There  are  two  large  hotels  on  the  high  cliff,  and 
Ave  could  see  the  tourists,  many  with  field  glasses,  watch- 
ing us  in  the  air.  Mike,  in  the  exuberance  of  his  joy 
and  self-confidence,  made  three  great  circles  before 
landing.  In  making  the  last  circle  he  went  out  over 
the  sea  again,  and  then  alit  beside  the  Railroad  hotel  as 
lightly  as  a  bird  could  have  done.  The  crowd  cheered 
us  as  we  stepped  out,  and  some  of  the  men  came  forward 
to  shake  hands  and  congratulate  us,  We  were  asked 
if  we  were  the  Wright  Brothers,  and  when  we  said  we 
were  not,  some  of  them  suggested  Curtiss,  Farnam,  and 
other  well-known  aeronauts.  When  we  explained  we 
were  simply  tourists,  using  the  latest  and  best  way  of 


70  THE  TRUTH   ABOUT   IRELAND 

travel,  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  when  Mike  told 
how  we  had  come  from  Cork,  they  laughed  outright. 
I  do  not  believe  half  a  dozen  in  the  crowd  thought  we 
had  come  any  further  than  from  Portrush.  I  expect 
they  would  not  have  believed  we  could  fly  at  all  had  they 
not  seen  us  alight. 

One  Englishman  laughed  so1  contemptuously  that  I 
noticed  Mike  looked  at  him  in  disgust. 

"It  reminds  me  of  the  Manager  of  the  Chicago 
Stock  Yards,"  said  the  Englishman. 

"Why,  what  about  the  Manager  of  the  Chicago 
Stockyards?"  asked  Mike  hotly. 

Not  noticing  Mike's  rising  temper,  the  Englishman 
went  on  to  tell  of  a  couple  of  Irishmen  who  went  to 
Chicago,  and  while  there,  visited  the  Stockyards.  One 
of  the  managers  noticed  the  interest  Erin's  sons  took  in 
the  great  institution,  and  thought  he  would  play  a  joke. 
Pointing  to  a  large  herd  of  cattle;  which  were  being 
driven  into  one  of  the  lower  buildings,  the  Manager 
called  attention  to  them,  and  when  the  last  tail  had 
disappeared,  he  waited  a  few  moments  and  then  pulled 
a  great  freight  elevator  rope  and  down  came  a  large 
elevator  loaded  with  canned  meat. 

"There,"  said  the  Manager,  slyly  winking  at  an 
employee  near  by,  "there  are  all  those  cows  you  saw, 
hides,  horns,  hoofs,  and  every  thing,  all  canned  and 
ready  for  market.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that 
in  Ireland,  Pat?"  he  asked. 

Pat  at  once  took  out  his  note  book  and  be^an  to 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  71 


write.  The  Manager  looked  over  Pat's  shoulder  and 
read  on  Pat's  note  book :  "The  Manager  of  the  Chicago 
Stockyards  is  the  biggest  liar  I  have  met  yet." 

Mike  was  furious  as  he  heard  the  crowd  join  in 
uproarious  laughter  at  our  expense. 

"Do  you  call  me  a  liar,  sir,"  said  Mike,  squaring 
himself  in  front  of  the  joking  Englishman. 

The  Englishman  was  taken  aback  at  Mike's  earn- 
estness, and,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  merely  laughed 
in  a  foolish  kind  of  way. 

"I  allow  no  man  to  call  me  a  liar,"  said  Mike,  as  he 
stepped  closer  to  his  antagonist.  Mike  was  a  Yankee, 
but  I  knew  there  was  Irish  blood  in  his  veins,  and  this 
rash  Englishman  had  aroused  him. 

I  was  afraid  our  aeroplane  trip  was  going  to  end  in 
a  fiasco,  when  something  altogether  unexpected  happen- 
ed. 

"I  believe  you,  sir,"  said  a  sweet,  charming,  musical 
voice,"  and  you  must  tell  us  all  about  your  wonderful 
voyage  over  Ireland.  It  must  have  been  delightful." 
Mike  turned  to  see  the  speaker,  and,  in  a  moment, 
every  trace  of  anger  left  his  face,  and  he  stood  like  a 
blushing  schoolboy. 

At  the  same  time  a  dark-haired,  rosy-cheeked  girl, 
of  nineteen  or  twenty,  clad  in  a  dainty  white  sailor  dress 
and  cap  came  forward,  holding  out  her  hand. 

Mike  recovered  himself,  clasped  her  hand,  saying: 
"I  thank  you,  Miss—."       , 

"Edith  O'Neill,"  added  the  girl. 


72  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Miss  O'Neill,"  said  Mike, 
and  I  never  saw  him,  look  more  manly. 

The  crowd  burst  into  applause,  and  all  was  good 
cheer  again.  That  was  the  first  meeting  of  Mike  and 
Miss  O'Neill,  and  it  was  fraught  with  more  meaning 
than  any  of  us  thought  at  the  time.  I  found  out  later 
in  the  day  that  Miss  O'Neill  was  a  descendant  of  the 
famous  Irish  O'Neill  family.  Her  father  was  a  wealthy 
Dublin  lawyer,  and  she  and  her  parents  were  taking  a 
short  holiday  at  the  Causeway. 

After  seeing  that  the  aeroplane  was  carefully  stored 
away  in  a  corner  of  the  hotel  yard,  Mike  and  I  retired 
to  our  room1  until  lunch.  Mike  was  in  splendid  humor, 
and  he  had  every  reason  to  be.  Our  aeroplane  trip 
was  a  success.  We  had  conquered  the  Irish  air.  An 
Irish  heiress  is  still  more  difficult  to  conquer,  but  it  is 
wonderful   what   one   can   do  in   the   Irish   atmosphere. 


CHAPTER  X 

OUR  REST  ON  THE  ANTRIM  COAST 

HEN  we  came  down  to  the  noon  lunch  at 
the  hotel,  we  met  Miss  O'Neill  and  a  fine- 
looking,  elderly  gentleman  and  lady,  whom 
she  at  once  introduced  as  her  parents. 

Mr.  O'Neill  was  very  cordial,  and  invited  us  to  sit 
at  their  table.  In  some  way  I  managed  to  monopolize 
both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  O'Neill,  leaving  Mike  out  in  the  cold 
with  Miss  O'Neill.  However,  I  don't  think  he  minded 
it  in  the  least,  as  both  he  and  the  fair  Irish  girl  seemed 
to  get  on  good  terms  at  once.  I  was  surprised  at  Mike. 
I  had  never  known  him  before  to  take  an  interest  in  any 
girl.  He  always  had  avoided  the  young  ladies  as  long 
as  I  had  known  him.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the 
Irish  atmosphere. 

After  lunch  Mr.  O'Neill  and  I  went  for  a  walk 
over  the  Causeway.  Mrs.  O'Neill  took  an  afternoon 
nap,  and  so  Mike  and  Miss  Edith  were  left  alone  together 
again. 

One  reason  why  Mike  capitulated  so  easily  to  the 
charms  of  this  fair  Irish  maiden  was  that  she  had  been 
an  ardent  student  of  aeronautics,  and  was  even  ambitious 
to  fly  herself. 

During  the  afternoon  Mr.  O'Neill  showed  me  the 
wonders  of  the  Giant's  Causeway,     It  is  no  wonder  that 


74  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

this  unique  phenomenon  in  geology  is  so  far-famed.  A 
stream  of  lava,  2600  feet  wide,  and  fifteen  miles  long, 
instead  of  forming  the  usual  basaltic  rock  when  it  had 
cooled,  formed  itself  into  detached  columns,  from  six  to 
thirty  feet  long,  and  from  eight  to  twenty- four  inches 
in  diameter.  These  strange  columns,  mostly  pentagonal 
or  hexagonal  in  formation,  present  a  smooth  surface  in 
three  parallel  terraces  along  this  Antrim  coast  and  make 
the  most  remarkable  natural  pavement  ever  seen  by  the 
eyes  of  man.  There  are  forty  thousand  of  these  columns, 
and  every  one  of  them  is  a  perfect  geometrical  figure. 
The  columns  are  so  close  together  that  water  will  not 
pass  between  them,  and  yet  each  is  separate. 

"With  skill  so  like,  yet  so  surpassing  art; 
With  such  design,  so  just  in  every  part, 
That  reason  ponders,  doubtly  if  it  stand 
The  work  of  morta)  or  immortal  hand." 

As  we  walked  over  this  marvelous  piece  of  rock 
formation,  Mr.  O'Neill  told  me  the  legend  of  Finn 
McCool,  and  how  he  built  the  Causeway  over  to  Scot- 
land, in  order  to  provide  a  way  for  Ben  Donner  to  come 
over  to  Ireland  to  accept  his  challenge..  Ben  was  the 
champion  of  Scotland,  as  Finn  was  in  Ireland,  and  Finn 
was  determined  to  see  which  was  the  better  man.  In 
the  contest  Finn  was  victorious,  and  as  there  was  no* 
further  use  for  this  strange  roadway  across  the  sea,  most 
of  it  had  been  swept  away,  but  a  little  was  left  on  the 
Antrim  coast,  a  relic  of  Finn's  remarkable  handiwork. 

Science  attempts  to  explain  the  Causeway  by  saying 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  75 


that,  when  the  rock  was  in  a  fluid  state,  crystalization 
set  in,  and  produced  the  phenomenon.  It  is  claimed  that 
the  Palisades  of  the  Hudson  are  a  somewhat  similar 
formation.  On  account  of  the  fact  that  rocks  do  not 
naturally  crystalize,  however,  the  Causeway  still  remains 
the  puzzle  of  the  scientist. 

The  scenery  along  the  coast  near  the  Causeway  is 
sublime,  and  there  is  a  walk  along  the  face  of  the  cliff, 
which  I  found  almost  as  dangerous  as  aeroplaning. 
I  found  Mr.  O'Neill  a  charming  companion,  and  I 
thoroughly  enjoyed  his  society.  After  we  had  talked 
of  the  Causeway,  our  conversation  drifted  to  the  subject 
of  Ireland's  history.  Naturally,  this  was  a  subject  clear 
to  his  heart.  He  gave  me  a  brief  epitome  of  Irish 
history  which  was  new  to  me.  Irish  history  begins  with 
St.  Patrick  in  the  fifth  century  of  our  era.  St.  Patrick 
evangelized  the  Irish,  and,  as  a  result  of  his  labors, 
Ireland  was  the  land  o<f  saints  and  scholars  during  the 
period  between  the  sixth  and  tenth  centuries.  The 
Danes,  who  settled  around  the  coasts  of  Ireland,  broke 
up  this  peaceful  prosperity.  Schools  were  demolished 
and  the  students  scattered.  Brian  Boru  brought  back 
a  brief  period  of  glory  to  Irish  history  by  uniting  the 
Irish  under  his  able  sway.  He  defeated  the  Danes  in  a 
decisive  battle  at  Clontarf,  near  Dublin,  in  1014,  but  he 
lost  his  life  at  the  close  of  that  fatal  day.  Ireland  was 
left  rudderless  again.  The  petty  chiefs  quarrelled 
amongst  themselves,  and  in  11 70  the  English  came  over 
and  claimed   Ireland.     The    struggles   of  the  Irish   for 


76  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

political  freedom  have  been  pathetic.  The  native  Irish 
were  o<ften  treated  as  the  Indians  were  by  the  white  men 
in  America,  but  with  this  vital  exception.  In  America 
the  Indian  quietly  died  out,  and  gave  not  trouble.  In 
Ireland,  the  Irish  lived,  multiplied,  and  filled  Ireland  with 
Irishmen.  The  real  estate  deals  made  in  Irish  land  by 
several  O'f  England's  rulers  left  a  bad  taste  in  the  mouths 
of  the  Irish.  In  1641,  taking  advantage  of  England's 
Civil  War,  the  Irish  rose  against  the  English  and  Scotch 
colonists  in  Ireland  with  terrible  fury.  In  1649  Crom- 
well reduced  Ireland  again  to  English  rule,  treating  the 
natives  with  savage  ferocity.  Another  rebellion  arose 
in  1689,  when  James  II.  was  driven  from  the  English 
throne  by  William  III.  James  came  to  Ireland  and  the 
Irish  rose  in  his  favor.  William  III.  again  conquered 
the  Irish.  Thus  the  history  has  gone  on.  Laws  of  fear- 
ful severity  were  enacted,  and  the  native  Irish,  for  almost 
a  century,  were  outcasts  in  the  land  of  their  fore  fathers. 

Mr.  O'Neill  was  a  great  admirer  of  Daniel  O'Con- 
nell.  He  told  me  that  a  new  era  began  for  Ireland  when 
Daniel  O'Connell,  with  the  assistance  of  English  states- 
men, took  off  some  of  Ireland's  heaviest  burdens.  "I 
believe,"  said  Mr.  O'Neill,  with  great  earnestness,  "that 
since  Gladstone's  time,  England  has  been  trying  to  do< 
justice  to  Ireland." 

He  assured  me  that  the  Irish  had  never  acknowl- 
edged that  England  had  conquered  them1.  He  told  me 
about  an  English  schoolboy  who  was  asked  to  write  an 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  77 

essay  on  the  "Conquest  of  Ireland/'  and  he  began :  "The 
Conquest  of  Ireland  began  in  1170,  and  is  still  going 
on." 

I  was  much  impressed  with  the  way  O'Neill  recited 
to  me  the  history  of  his  country.  Sometimes  tears  came 
into  his  eyes,  He  quoted,  with  much  feeling,  a  few  lines 
from  an  Irish  poet : 

"Of  old  the  harp  of  Innisfail 
Was  turned  to  gladness, 
But,  Oh !  how  oft  it's  told  a  tale 
Of  wide  prevailing  sadness." 

He  expressed  high  hopes  that  Ireland's  darkest  days 
are  past.  He  believes  all  Irishmen  in  Ireland  today,  the 
Protestant  in  the  North  and  the  Catholic  in  the  South, 
should  blot  out  the  unhappy  memories  of  the  past 
centuries,  and  forget  the  mistakes  of  former  times,  and 
face  the  future,  united  in  honest  efforts  for  Ireland's 
welfare. 

As  we  walked  along,  while  he  told  me  all  this,  we 
suddenly  came  upon  Mike  and  Edith  at  the  Giant's 
Wishing  Chair.  This  is  a  place  where  the  columns  of 
the  Causeway  are  arranged  something  like  a  rude  chair, 
and  it  is  said  if  you  sit  in  this  "chair,"  and  wish,  that 
your  wish  will  come  true.  When  we  came  on  the  scene 
Edith  was  sitting  in  the  chair,  wishing.  Mike  was 
standing  by  her  side,  evidently  much  amused. 

"What's  your  wish,"  Mike  asked,  after  we  had 
joined  them. 

"I  wished  that  I  might  fly  tomorrow,"  she  answered 
with  a  blush.     Then,  walking  up  to<  her  father  she  said : 


78  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

"Oh,  Papa,  can  I  take  a  ride  in  the  aeroplane  with 
Mr.  Connor  tomorrow?" 

I  saw  Mr.  Neill  glance  quickly  at  her  flushed  face, 
and  then  turn  away  with  a  sigh.      She  was  his  only  child. 

"Why,  why,"  he  answered,  "what  put  such  a  notion 
as  that  in  your  head?  Did  you,  sir?"  and  he  looked 
accusingly  at  Mike. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Edith,  before  Mike  could  speak, 
"Mr.  Connor  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it." 

"We'll  see  tomorrow,"  said  her  father. 

"I  think  my  wish  will  come  true,"  I  heard  Miss 
O'Neill  say  to  Mike,  as  they  walked  ahead  of  us  up  the 
rough  road  to  the  hotel. 

I  did  not  hear  Mike's  reply  but  it  seemed  to  please 
her  immensely. 

I  resumed  my  talk  with  Mr.  O'Neill  about  Ireland. 
I  asked  him  about  recent  land  laws.  I  found  him  en- 
thusiastic about  the  Wyndham  Act  of  1903,  providing* 
for  the  purchase  of  their  farms  by  Irish  tenants. 

"It  means  a  new  Ireland  inside  a  generation,"  he 
earnestly  exclaimed.  He  then  went  on  to  say  that  the 
Irish  people  as  a  whole,  the  native  Celt,  the  descendants 
of  the  Scotch,  English  and  French,  were  developing 
a  distinctive  modern  Irish  race,  which  would  be  able  to 
hold  its  own  in  every  department  oi  life.  This  led 
him  to  speak  of  the  Irish  people  in  America,  and  I  found 
he  had  followed  the  fortunes  of  his  countrymen  across 
the  sea.  He  was  delighted  when  I  told  him  that  Mike 
and  I  were  Irish  Yankees. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  79 


"County  Antrim  ought  to  be  a  sacred  place  to  you," 
he  said  to  me,  "for  two  of  your  great  Presidents  traced 
their  ancestory  to  Antrim."  He  went  on  to  tell  me  that 
President  Jackson's  father  sailed  from  Carrickfergus, 
near  Belfast,  in  1765,  going  to  North  Carolina.  He  also 
told  me  that  the  great-great-grandfather  of  President 
McKinley  emigrated  from  Conagher,  County  Antrim, 
in  1743.  He  had  himself  seen  the  old  McKinley  home- 
stead. Mr.  O'Neill  and  I  were  on  such  good  terms  of 
real  friendship  that  very  evening,  that  I  could  hardly 
believe  it  possible  I  had  only  met  him  that  day.  I  believe 
it  was  the  Irish  atmosphere. 


CHAPTER   XI 

A  FLIGHT  IN  AN  AEROPLANE  WITH  AN  IRISH  GIRL 

^)  EXT    morning    at    breakfast    Miss    O'Neill 

if  Nv  a8'am  asked  her  father's  permission  to  as- 
/^  ^gv    cend  in  the  aeroplane  with  Mike.     I  assured 

^^r^^  him  that  if  Mike  promised  to  go  over  land 
there  was  absolutely  no  danger,  for,  as  I  put  it:  "Mr. 
Connor  can  alight  as  easily  as  a  crow." 

"But  what  if  he  were  to  alight  on  a  tree?"  he  asked 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  which  showed  me  that  Mike 
and  Miss  O'Neill  were  going  to  fly  together  all  right. 

At  last,  the  father  gave  his  consent,  but  warned 
Mike  not  to  go  out  over  the  sea.  It  was  arranged  that 
they  should  ascend  at  10:00  o'clock. 

Mike  had  to  make  a  trip  to  Portrush  to  get  some 
petrol,  and  he  decided  to  take  Miss  O'Neill  along  with 
him  on  that  journey. 

"Can  she  take  such  a  long  trip  on  her  first  flight?" 
I  asked,  remembering  my  own  experiences. 

"Jack,"  said  Mike,  confidently,  "she  can  beat  you 
now  as  an  aeronaut.  She  knows  all  about  it  already. 
I  am  sure  she  will  have  no  trouble." 

We  fixed  up  a  starting  rail  in  the  sloping  field  in 
front  of  the  hotel,  and  at  10:00  o'clock  Miss  Edith 
and  her  father  and  mother  appeared. 

Word  had  gotten  out  about  the  trip  and  every  tour- 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  81 

ist  around  the  Causeway  was  gathered  in  the  field  to 
see  the  ascent. 

Edith  was  a  perfect  picture.  Not  having  an  air- 
ship dress,  she  had  arranged  herself  in  closely  fitting 
riding  habit.  She  made  a  few  necessary  changes,  and 
the  dress  was  adapted  well  for  her  unique  excursion. 
She  wore  a  blue  sailor  cap,  matching  her  dress,  and  also 
a  pair  of  blue  gloves. 

As  Mike  was  assisting  her  into  the  aeroplane,  I 
heard  a  lady  exclaim,  "What  a  pretty  blue-bird."  I  could 
net  help  thinking  that  a  fairer  bird  than  Miss  Edith 
never  flew  beneath  the  kindly  Irish  skies. 

It  was  a  perfect  day,  and  there  was  a  very  slight 
breeze. 

After  seeing  that  Edith  was  seated,  Mike  vaulted 
easily  into  his  seat. 

"All  ready,"  he  shouted,  as  he  started  the  motor.. 
"Goodbye,"  said  Edith  to  us  all,  as  the  aeroplane  started. 

It  rose  beautifully  and  after  ascending  about  75 
feet,  Mike  circled  around  us.  We  could  see  Edith  wav- 
ing her  handkerchief.  I  was  surprised  at  her  composure. 
After  making  one  circle,  Mike  started  off,  like  a  huge 
bird,  for  Portrush.  We  watched  the  airship  until  it 
became  a  speck  in  the  distance.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  O'Neill 
walked  back  with  me  to  the  hotel  and  I  had  to  earnestly 
assure  Edith's  mother  that  her  daughter  was  in  safe 
hands. 

Juse  before  noon  I  heard  a  shout,  "They're  coming 
back." 


82  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

I  rushed  out  of  the  hotel  and  saw  the  aeroplane  - 
about  a  half  a  mile  off,  bearing  down  on  us  with  all 
speed.  When  they  came  nearer  I  saw  them  rise,  and  I 
knew  Mike  was  going  to  circle.  He  went  up  to  a  height 
<of  fully  400  feet,  and  circled  around  over  the  hotel 
three  times.  In  making  the  third  circle,  he  went  out 
far  over  the  sea. 

The  descent  was  made  without  difficulty,  and  the 
•aeroplane  touched  the  ground  without  a  perceptible  jar. 

Edith  jumped  out  before  Mike  could  descend  to 
help  her,  and  before  I  reached  the  aeroplane.  She  ran 
.at  once  to  her  mother  and  kissed  her. 

"Edith,  child,"  said  her  mother,  with  tears  in  her 
•eyes,  "you  must  not  go  flying  again." 

"Oh,  Mamma,"  said  the  happy  girl,  "it  was  grand 
I  never,  never  enjoyed  anything  like  it." 

"You  rascal,"  said  Mr.  O'Neill,  smiling,  to  Mike, 
"I  thought  you  promised  to  keep  off  the  sea." 

"I  made  him  do  it,"  said  Edith,  hastily.  "He  didn't 
want  to,  but  I  wanted  to  fly  above  the  water." 

Mike  hung  his  head.  Mike  was  always  proud  of 
■keeping  his  word.  It  was  the  atmosphere  again.  It 
^changed  Mike. 

Edith  cheered  him  by  going  to  him  with  outstretch- 
ed hand,  and  saying  in  her  sweet,  musical  voice :  "Thank 
you  ever  so  much,  Mr.  Connor." 

Mike's  face  brightened  and  he  took  off  his  cap 
gallantly,  saying:  "The  pleasure  was  mine,  Miss  O'Neill." 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  83 

After  Edith  and  her  parents  were  gone  I  asked 
Mike  about  the  flight. 

''Capital,  Jack,  capital,"  Mike  said  with  enthusiasm, 
""I  tell  you  Jack,  there  are  few  girls  like  Edith." 

I  noticed  that  he  had  unconsciously  used  her  first 
name. 

He  then  gave  me  some  details  of  the  flight.  On 
the  return  trip,  they  had  paused  to  circle  around  Dunluce 
Castle,  and  then  they  had  followed  the  electric  railway 
to  the  Causeway.  This  electric  railway  from  Portrush  to 
the  Causeway  was  the  first  electric  railroad  that  was  suc- 
cessfully operated  in  the  world.  It  was  built  in  1883,  be- 
ing designed  by  Sir  William  Siemens.  Formerly  it  was 
operated  with  the  third  rail,  but  now  it  is  an  overhead 
trolley.  As  they  were  flying  along  this  railroad,  about 
40  feet  high,  they  overtook  a  crowded  car.  When  the 
astonished  passengers  saw  them  fly  past,  their  enthus- 
iasm knew  no  bounds.  Edith  enjoyed  the  greeting  and 
waved  her  handkerchief  in  return. 

Mike  wanted  to  remain  a  few  days  longer  at  the 
Causeway,  but  when  I  told  him  that  Mr.  O'Neill  had 
told  me  he  was  called  back  to  Dublin  the  next  day,  and 
that  his  family  would  accompany  him,  he  decided  to 
start  the  next  day  himself. 

As  we  bade  the  O'Neills  goodbye,  they  gave  us  a 
cordial  invitation  to  call  on  them  in  Dublin.  I  was 
delighted  with  the  invitation,  and  so  was  Mike,  but 
for  a  different  reason.  I  was  glad  because  I  knew  Mr. 
O'Neill  would  show  us  the  places  of  historic  interest  in 


84  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Ireland's  capital  city,  and  I  was  anxious  to  see  a  real 
Irish  horne.  Mike  confided  to  me  that  he  had  already 
arranged  to  take  Miss  Edith  for  a  flight  over  Dublin. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  we  started.  A  big 
crowd  cheered  us  as  the  areoplane  rose.  As  we  circled 
around  over  the  crowd,  I  could  see  Miss  Edith's  hand- 
kerchief waving  us  a  farewell. 

We  sailed  along  the  coast  from  the  Causeway  to- 
wards B'allycastle,  13  miles  away.  It  was  as  fine  a 
coast  as  I  have  ever  seen,  excepting  along  County  Clare. 
We  passed  over  several  old  ruins,  and  saw  the  famous 
Carrick-a-Rede  Bridge.  Carrick-a-Rede,  which  means  the 
Rock  in  the  Track,  is  a  gigantic  rock,  separated  from 
the  mainland  by  a  deep  channel,  sixty  feet  wide.  Fish- 
ermen use  the  rock  from  March  to  October,  and  a  bridge 
has  been  constructed  of  cables  between  the  rock  and  the 
mainland.  This  swinging  bridge  is  fully  80  feet  above 
the  water.  As  you  cross  it,  the  bridge  bends  and  sways, 
but  the  natives  cross  it  continually,  often  carrying  heavy 
burdens. 

We  flew  over  Ballycastle,  a  clean-looking  little- 
fishing  village,  making  great  excitement  amongst  the  vil- 
lagers. It  was  nine  o'clock  when  we  sailed  over  the 
town.  There  is  coal  in  this  vicinity,  but  it  has  been 
properly  worked. 

In  the  distance  we  could  see  Fair  Head  towering 
over  the  Sea.  Near  Fair  Head  is  Torr  Head,  which  is 
only  twelve  and  a  half  miles  from  the  coast  of  Scotland. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  85 

This  is  the  shortest  distance  between  the  two  countries. 
We  could  see  the  Mull  of  Canty  re  very  clearly. 

After  passing  Ballycastle,  we  flew  over  a  surpris- 
ingly beautiful  region  around  Cushendal.  Mike  was 
now  taking  more  interest  in  the  Irish  scenery  and  I  re- 
marked that  he  had  just  begun  to  appreciate  the  beauty 
of  Ireland.  We  found  Glen  Arifl  bathed  in  sunshine, 
its  innumerable  waterfalls  glistening  in  the  light  of  the 
sunbeams.  This  is  a  place  of  rare  beauty.  As  we  passed 
Larne  we  could  see  the  excited  inhabitants  climbing 
on  the  walls  and  roofs  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  mon- 
ster bird,  as  our  airship  looked  to  be  from  land. 

Larne  has  a  good  harbor  protected  by  a  curious, 
curving  headland.  Mail  steamers  leave  here  for  Stran- 
raer across  the  channel,  thirty-nine  miles.  The  crossing 
is  made  in  two  hours.  This  is  the  shortest  crossing 
between  Ireland  and  Scotland.  There  is  talk  of  running 
an  underground  railway  over  to  Scotland  from  some- 
where near  here. 

It  was  at  Larne  that  Edward  Bruce,  a  brother  of 
the  famed  Robert  Bruce  of  Scotland,  landed  in  13 15,  in 
an  ill-fated  expedition  which  he  made  to  Ireland. 

A  little  later  we  came  to  Carrickfergus,  where  An- 
drew Jackson's  father  used  to  live.  It  is  ten  miles  from 
Belfast,  and  in  former  years  was  a  place  of  greater  im- 
portance than  its  neighbor. 

There  is  an  old  castle  at  Carrickfergus,  built  in 
1 1 78,  which  still  defies  the  ravages  of  time.  It  is  built 
on  a  huge  rock,   projecting  thirty   feet  out   of   Belfast 


86  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Lough,  and  is  a  splendid  example  of  a  Norman  fortress. 
There  are  walls  in  the  ruins  ninety  feet  high  and  nine 
feet  thick. 

William  III.  landed  at  Carrickfergus  in  1690,  on 
his  way  to  the  Battle  of  the  Boyne. 

We  could  now  see  the  smoke  of  Belfast,  the  Chi- 
cago of  Ireland.  Overlooking  it  is  Cave  Hill,  a  lofty 
mound,  back  of  the  city.  As  we  swept  over  this  great 
metropolis,  we  rose  to  a  height  of  400  feet,  so  as  to  get 
the  best  possible  view  of  the  busy  hive  of  industry.  Tall 
chimneys  sent  out  smoke.  Huge  shipyards  covered 
acres  and  acres,  houses  extended  almost  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  Church  spires  pierced  the  sky  in  every 
direction. 

As  I  looked  down  on  Belfast  that  summer  morning, 
it  looked  like  a  model  city.  Its  magnificent  business 
streets,  and  noble  city  hall,  are  in  keeping  with  its  fame 
and  enterprise. 

Passing  directly  over  it,  Mike  brought  the  aero- 
plane to  the  ground  on  a  level  place  near  the  foot  of 
Cave  Hill. 


CHAPTER   XII 

OVER  AND  AROUND  BELFAST 

T  was  almost    1 1  :oo    o'clock    when    we  alit 
at  the  foot  of  Cave  Hill.     Leaving  our  air- 

(Cj  <3)    S^P  *n  charge    °f  an  astonished    Irishman, 

r^^r^=>t    w|lose  ilouse  was  near  by,  we  took  a  street 

car  down  town,  and  had  lunch  at  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  cafe. 

Evidently  our  flight  over  the  city  had  been  ob- 
served by  many,  as  we  heard  a  good  deal  of  conver- 
sation about  the  "airship." 

We  came  back  to  Cave  Hill  about  noon,  and  I  found 
a  great  crowd  around  the  aeroplane.  Getting  a  starting 
rail,  Mike  prepared  to  ascend  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Just  as  we  were  about  ready  to  start,  I  saw  a  young  man 
edge  his  way  through  the  crowd,  with  a  note  book  in 
one  hand  and  a  pencil  in  the  other.  I  recognized  him 
at  once  as  a  reporter,  seeking  an  interview.  Before  he 
came  close  enough  to  hear,  I  said  to  Mike:  "Hurry  up, 
hurry  up.     I  see  a  newspaper  man." 

If  I  had  told  Mike  I  had  seen  his  Satanic  Majesty, 
he  could  not  have  hurried  his  final  preparations  more, 
as  he  has  a  horror  of  the  "interviewer,"  and  we  were 
determined  to  escape  them  while  in  Ireland. 

When  the  reporter  reached  my  side,  he  began  at 
once :  "I  represent  the  Whig,  the  Belfast  Whig.  We 
want  an  account  of  this  airship,  if  you  please.     What  are 


88  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

your  names?  Where  did  you  come  from?"  Before  he 
could  ask  any  more  questions,  Mike  shouted  loudly  to 
me:  "All  aboard." 

I  was  glad  to  leap  into  my  seat.  Without  another 
word,  Mike  vaulted  into  his  place,  started  the  motor, 
and  before  the  astonished  reporter  could  get  out  another 
word,  we  were  sailing  in  the  air. 

The  big  crowd  cheered  and  clapped  their  hands,  as 
wre  rose  gracefully  towards  Cave  Hill.  Ascending  to  the 
very  summit  of  this  hill,  Mike  turned  the  aeroplane  in 
one  of  his  familiar  circles,  and  we  made  another  wide 
sweep  over  Belfast.  Below  us  we  could  see  Belfast  Cas- 
tle. The  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  grandson  of  the  famous 
philanthropist,  lives  in  this  Castle,  which  is  a  modern 
mansion,  as  everything  is  around  Belfast.  The  Earl 
has  inherited  some  of  the  sterling  qualities  of  his  illus- 
trious grandfather,  and  is  a  public  spirited  citizen.  He 
was  elected  Lord  Mayor  of  Belfast  in  1907.  Belfast 
is  a  remarkable  city,  different  from  any  other  city  in 
Ireland.  It  practically  came  on  the  map  in  the  17th 
century,  when  it  first  became  a  centre  for  the  export 
of  linen  in  a  small  way. 

As  it  is  located  at  the  junction  of  Down  and  Antrim 
two  Presbyterian  Counties,  Belfast  has  always  been  a 
Presbyterian  stronghold.  There  are  upwards  of  60 
prosperous  Presbyterian  churches  in  the  city  today,  and 
the  Presbyterian  Assembly  Hall  is  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  beautiful  buildiners  in  the  North  of  Ireland. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  89 

One  hundred  years  ago  Belfast  had  a  population 
of  less  than  20,000.  Today  it  has  nearly  400,000.  Its 
wealth  has  doubled  six  times  in  the  last  25  years. 

Belfast  owes  its  prosperity  to  the  linen  trade.  This 
industry  alone  now  amounts  to  sixty  million  dollars  a 
year.  The  largest  mill,  which  I  could  easily  distinguish, 
covers  five  acres,  with  6000  spindles,  1000  looms  and 
more  than  4000  employees. 

There  are  also  extensive  machine  shops,  and  its 
ship  yards  build  the  largest  ocean  liners  afloat. 

Here  also  are  manufactured  agricultural  imple- 
ments, "soft  drinks"  of  all  kinds,  and  machinery  of  every 
sort. 

Its  situation  on  Belfast  Lough,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Lagan  is  picturesque,  and,  taken  altogether,  Belfast  is 
one  of  the  finest  cities  in  Europe.  Leaving  it  behind  us 
we  sailed  due  south,  in  the  direction  of  Downpatrick, 
where  St,  Patrick  is  buried. 

As  we  crossed  County  Down,  we  admired  again  the 
thrifty  farm-houses,  well-tilled  farms,  and  the  little 
fields,  green  with  potatoes  and  turnips,  or  waving  with 
flax  and  oats. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Downpatrick  came  in 
sight.  We  flew  over  the  beautiful  Gothic  Down  Cathe- 
dral, in  the  churchyard  of  which  St.  Patrick  lies  buried. 
Here  also  lies  buried  St.  Bridget  and  St.  Columba,  two 
other  noble  characters  in  Ireland's  religious  history. 

St.  Patrick  was  born  in  Scotland  about  the  year 
387.     When  he  was  sixteen  years  old,  he  was  taken  a 


90  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

captive,  and  sold  as  a  slave  to  an  Irishman,  for  whom  he 
herded  sheep  and  swine  in  County  Antrim. 

While  a  slave,  he  became  a  devout  Christian,  and 
made  his  escape  when  he  was  twenty-two  years  old.  He 
entered  a  monastic  school  in  France,  and  fitted  himself 
as  a  Missionary  to  Ireland.  At  that  time  the  Irish  wor- 
shipped at  Druid  altars. 

Landing  at  the  mouth  of  the  Slaney  in  County 
Down,  he  settled  in  Downpatrick.  He  remained  here 
several  years  and  then  visited  all  parts  of  the  island, 
meeting  with  marvelous  success.  In  457  he  settled  in 
Armagh  and  lived  there  for  eight  years. 

While  visiting  in  Downpatrick  in  his  78th  year,  he 
was  seized  with  a  fatal  illness,  and  died  at  the  scene  of 
early  labors.     Here  he  was  buried. 

St.  Bridget  was  born  near  Armagh  about  453.  She 
was  rich  and  beautiful,  but  became  a  convert  to  Chris- 
tianity, and  devoted  her  life  to  missionary  labors 
amongst  the  Irish.  She  died  in  525,  and  was  first  buried 
at  Kildare.  Her  remains  and  those  of  St.  Columba 
were  brought  to  Downpatrick  in  1185.  St.  Patrick  made 
the  shamrock  the  national  flower  of  Ireland  by  teaching 
from  its  three  petals  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity. 

Turning  west  from  Downpatrick,  Mike  and  I  fol- 
lowed in  the  air  St.  Patrick's  footsteps  to  Armagh.  Be- 
fore entering  County  Armagh,  we  crossed  over  a  pretty 
village,  called  Banbridge.  County  Armagh  resembles 
County  Down  in  its  general  appearance.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful picture  of  rural  quietude.     It  was  after  two  o'clock 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  91 


when  we  caught  our  first  glimpse  of  the  famous  Irish 
city  of  Armagh. 

This  is  Ireland's  most  sacred  city.  Two  Primates 
of  Ireland  live  here,  and  here  are  two  Archbishops,  and 
two  magnificent  Cathedrals.  Armagh  is  a  well-built 
town  of  some  8,000  inhabitants.  It  is  built  partly  on  a 
hill,  which  makes  some  of  its  streets  quite  steep.  A 
Cathedral  was  founded  here  by  St.  Patrick  in  432.  His 
Eminence,  Cardinal  Logue,  an  able  and  learned  divine, 
is  the  Roman  Catholic  Primate,  while  Dr.  Alexander  is 
the  Protestant  Primate  of  the  island  The  ecclesias- 
tical head  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  is  called  the 
Moderator,  and  is  elected  every  year. 

We  sailed  over  the  beautiful  grounds  of  Dr.  Alex- 
ander's Palace,  and  were  reminded  of  his  gifted  wife, 
who  wrote : 

"There  is  a  green  hill  far  away, 

Outside  a  city  wall 
Where  the  dear  Lord  was  crucified, 

Who  died  to  save  us  all." 

Mrs.  Alexander  died  in  1895.  Another  well  known 
poem  of  hers  is  "The  Burial  of  Moses." 

There  are  three  prosperous  and  growing  Presby- 
terian churches  in  Armagh.  Dr.  John  Hall,  who  after- 
wards became  one  of  the  foremost  preachers  in  America, 
was  pastor  of  one  of  these  Presbyterian  churches  for  a 
time,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  his  future  fame  in  this 
city.  There  is  a  vigorous  Methodist  church,  which  is 
also  active  in  promoting  the  Christian  faith. 


92  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Armagh  is  rich  in  historic  memories.  As  I  circled 
over  its  steep  and  winding  streets  that  day  with  Mike, 
I  thought  of  all  the  scenes  enacted  on  the  soil  beneath. 

Here  St.  Patrick  lived.  Here  a  great  educational 
institution  flourished  more  than  1200  years  ago.  As 
many  as  7000  students  gathered  in  this  place  at  one  time 
to  attend  its  far-famed  University. 

The  bleeding  body  of  Brian  Boru  was  reverently 
carried  here,  after  the  fatal  day  at  Clontarf  in  1 01 4.  In 
the  stirring  years  of  the  O'Neills,  Armagh  saw  many  ex- 
citing scenes.  But  all  was  quiet  and  peaceful  on  that 
lovely  summer  day,  as  we  circled  over  the  sacred  city, 
and  flew  south  toward  Newry. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

ALIGHTING  IN  DROGHEDA 
^s-^/7?  N  our  way  from  Armagh  to  Newry,  we  saw 
^\  W  the  Newry  Canal.  This  little  piece  of  en- 
gineering work  was  completed  shortly  before 
the  railroads  came  to  make  it  useless. 
Newry  is  a  prosperous  place,  but  not  noted  much 
in  history.  The  Newryites  gazed  at  us  in  wonder,  as 
we  whirled  directly  over  their  town  towards  Warren- 
point.  Warrenpoint  is  a  handsome  seaside  resort  at  the 
head  of  Carlingford  Bay.  We  kept  to  the  east  side  of 
the  Bay  until  we  reached  Rosstrevor.  This  beautiful  vil- 
lage has  a  back-ground  of  wooded  hills,  and  many  hand- 
some  villas  are  in  its  neighborhood.  The  village  is  own- 
ed by  Sir  John  Ross-of-Blandensburg.  A  large  obelisk 
in  an  elevated  place  tells  why  the  name  of  the  owner  is 
"Ross  of  Blandensburg."  This  obelisk  is  in  honor  of 
General  Ross,  grandfather  of  Sir  John,  and  the  inscrip- 
tion reads  as  follows : 

The  Officers  of  a  Grateful  Army 
Which  under  the  command  of  the  lamented  Major  Gen- 
eral Robert  Ross 
Attacked  and  defeated  the  American  forces  at  Blandens- 
burg on  the  24th  of  August,  1814. 
and  on  the  same  day 
Victoriously    entered    Washington,,    the   Capital    of    the 

United  States 
Inscribe  upon  this  tablet  their  admiration  of  his  profes- 
sional skill  and  their  esteem  for  his  amiable 
private  character. 


94  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

As  I  pointed  out  the  obelisk  to  Mike  and  told  him 
of  this  inscription,  he  was  greatly  amused. 

From  Rosstrevor  we  crossed  the  little  bay  to  Carl- 
ingford,  another  picturesque  village,  and  shortly  after- 
wards sighted  Dundalk. 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  Mike. 

I  looked  at  my  watch  and  answered : 

"Ten  minutes  to  three." 

"Let  us  alight  here,"  said  Mike.  "My  wings  are 
tired." 

We  came  down  in  a  field  just  outside  of  the  town. 
It  was  the  worst  landing  Mike  made.  We  alit  on  one 
runner  of  the  aeroplane,  and  got  a  severe  jar,  but,  for- 
tunately, no  damage  was  done. 

After  an  hour's  rest  and  a  walk  around  town,  we 
sailed  on  to  Drogheda,  where  we  expected  to  spend  the 
night. 

If  we  had  been  Theodore  Roosevelt  himself,  or  even 
Edward  VII.,  we  could  not  have  attracted  more  atten- 
tion and  honor  from  the  people  of  the  country  than  we 
did  that  afternoon  between  Dundalk  and  Drogheda. 
Mike  made  a  superb  landing  at  Drogheda.  We  alit  be- 
side a  two-storied  house  on  the  edge  of  town,  creat- 
ing a  sensation.  Some  children,  near  the  door,  saw  us 
swooping  down,  and  ran,  screaming  into  the  house. 
Just  as  we  were  landing  a  woman  ran  out  and  as  she  saw 
the  aeroplane  alight,  she  uttered  a  shriek,  as  though  she 
had  seen  a  ghost. 

Presently  a  man  came  running,  and  we  introduced 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  95 


ourselves.  Leaving  the  aeroplane  with  him  and  the 
o-atherine  crowd,  we  went  to  a  hotel.  I  was  interested 
in  Drogheda,  on  account  of  its  historic  siege  by  Oliver 
Cromwell  in  1649.  We  saw  two  of  the  old  towers  stand- 
ing, just  as  they  were  left  after  the  siege. 

Oliver  Cromwell  is  as  unpopular  in  Ireland  as  the 
Duke  of  Alva  in  the  Netherlands,  and  when  we  read  his 
report  of  his  doings  at  this  city  we  were  not  surprised. 
Here  is  what  he  wrote  from  Drogheda  in  reporting  to 
Parliament : 

"Divers  of  the  enemy  retreated  to  the  Milmount,  a 
place  very  strong  and  of  difficult  access,  being  exceed- 
ingly high,  having  a  good  graft,  and  strongly  palisadoed. 
The  Governor,  Sir  Arthur  Aston,  and  divers  consider- 
able officers  being  there,  our  men  getting  up  to  them, 
were  ordered  by  me  to  put  them  all  to  the  sword.  And, 
indeed,  being  in  the  heat  of  action,  I  forbade  them  to 
spare  any  that  were  in  arms  in  the  town;  and  I  think 
that  night  they  put  to  the  sword  about  2000  men  .  Then 
our  horse  and  foot  followed  them  so  fast  over  the  bridge, 
which  goes  over  a  broad  river;  and  being  very  long  and 
houses  on  both  sides,  yet  they  had  not  time  to  pull  up 
their  draw  bridge,  that  our  men  fell  violently  upon  them, 
and  I  believe  there  were  2000  of  them  put  to  the  sword. 
Divers  of  the  officers  and  soldiers  being  fled  over  the 
bridge  into  the  other  parts  of  the  town,  where  about  100 
of  them  possessed  St.  Peters  church-steeple,  some  the 
West  Gate,  others  a  strong  round  tower  next  the  gate 
called  St.  Sundays.  These  being  summoned  to  yield  to 
mercy  refused,  whereupon  I  ordered  the  steeple  of  St. 
Peters  to  be  fired,  when  one  of  them  was  heard  to  say  in 
the  midst  of  the  flames,  'God  confound  me,  I  burn!  I 
burn !' 


96  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

'The  next  day  the  two  other  towers  were  summoned, 
in  one  of  which  was  about  six  or  seven  score,  but  they 
refused  to  yield  themselves;  and  we,  knowing  that  hun- 
ger must  compel  them,  set  only  good  guards  to  secure 
them  from  running  away  until  their  stomachs  were  come 
down.  From  one  of  the  said  towers,  notwithstanding 
their  condition,  they  killed  and  wounded  some  of  our 
men.  When  they  submitted,  their  officers  WERE 
KNOCKED  ON  THE  HEAD,  and  every  tenth  man  of 
the  soldiers  killed,  and  the  rest  shipped  for  the  Bar- 
badoes/' 

After  writing  this  gentle  epistle,  Oliver  continues : 

"I  am  persuaded  that  this  is  a  righteous  judgment 
of  God  upon  these  barbarous  wretches,  who  have  em- 
brued  their  hands  in  so  much  innocent  blood,  and  that 
it  will  tend  to  prevent  the  effusion  of  blood,  for  the  fu- 
ture, which  are  the  satisfactory  grounds  for  such  actions, 
which  otherwise  cannot  but  work  remorse  and  regret." 

After  viewing  Drogheda,  we  hired  a  jaunting  car, 
and  visited  the  ruins  of  Monasterboice,  some  six  miles 
from  town.  This  monastery  was  founded  by  St.  Patrick. 
Eight  or  nine  centuries  ago,  thousands  of  students  gath- 
ered here  every  year.  There  are  two  small  churches 
left  still  standing,  evidently  of  great  age.  Our  driver 
told  us  that  the  big  round  tower  there  was  1000  years, 
old.  The  finest  relics  of  the  past  here  are  three  large 
Celtic  Crosses,  the  largest  being  27  feet  in  height.  One 
of  them  is  badly  damaged,  and,  of  course,  the  damage 
is  attributed  to  Cromwell. 

Our  driver  was  a  talkative  fellow  and  entertained 
us  with  all  kinds  of  stories  about  the  country. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  97 

"I  always  tell  folks,"  he  said  to  Mike,  "all  that  L 
know,  but  begorra,  I  keep  the  rest  to  myself." 

He  got  a  good  laugh  on  Mike  when  he  told  us  some 
history  which  Mike  deemed  ridiculous. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  a  fool  to  tell  me  that,"  said 
Mike. 

"Sure,  I  don't  know,  sor,"  answered  the  driver 
solemnly,  "I  only  met  you  this  evening." 

This  driver  had  a  son  in  America,  as  a  good  many 
Irish  fathers  have.  These  Irish  boys  go  out  to  America 
with  very  little  that  they  own  except  their  names,  but: 
they  soon  begin  to  make  remittances  home,  and  in  thous- 
ands of  Irish  homes  the  regular  remittances  from  faith- 
ful sons  and  daughters  in  America  are  depended  on  as. 
part  of  the  means  of  livelihood. 

The  river  which  Cromwell  refers  to  in  his  dis- 
patches, on  which  Drogheda  is  built,  is  the  Boyne  river. 
Three  miles  from  Drogheda,  on  the  banks  of  the  Boyne, 
the  armies  of  William  III.  and  James  II.  met  in  battle. 
This  was  the  battle  that  sealed  the  fate  of  King  James, 
and  it  is  said  he  showed  a  little  too  much  anxiety  for  his 
royal  person  on  this  occasion  to  win  much  renown  as'  a 
soldier.  The  battle  was  fought  on  July  12th,  1690.  A 
huge  obelisk  now  marks  the  field  of  conflict. 

The  Boyne  is  a  beautiful  stream,  richly  wooded, 
with  many  villas  adorning  its  banks.  This  part  of  Ire- 
land is  "soggy,"  as  Mike  expressed  it,  with  historic 
memories.  The  next  day  we  hoped  to  fly  over  Tara,  the 
ancient  Capital  of  the  Green  Isle,  and  with  pleasant  an- 
ticipations, we  retired  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

WITH  FRIENDS  IN  DUBLIN 

ARLY   next    morning    we     ascended     from 

Drogheda,  and  followed    the  valley    of  the 

Boyne    for    several  miles.        Then    turning 

south,   we  flew   over  County  Meath,   on    a 

straight  way  to  Tara,  the  ancient  Capital  of  Ireland. 

County  Meath  is  one  of  the  most  fertile  spots  in 
Europe.  Its  rich  greenness  is  proverbial.  Large  pastur- 
ages, though  not  profitable  to  the  peasants,  add  to  the 
beauty  of  the  landscape. 

"I  say,  Jack,"  said  Mike,  after  we  had  been  gazing 
in  silence  at  the  fields  as  they  glided  under  us,  "I  am  fall- 
ing in  love  with  Ireland." 

"Mike,"  I  said  solemnly,  "you  mean  that  you  are 
falling  in  love  with  the  Irish.  I  think  it  is  because  we 
are  getting  near  Dublin  you  are  feeling  that  way." 

"We'll  get  to  Dublin  bright  and  early  at  this  rate," 
said  Mike  evasively.  I  fancied  I  could  see  Mike  become 
more  and  more  lively  as  we  approached  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Dublin. 

As  we  saw  Tara  with  its  little  cluster  of  Irish  cot- 
tages, I  felt  a  sense  of  disappointment,  but  when  we  cir- 
cled over  the  famous  hill,  I  let  my  imagination  supply 
what  was  wanting.  I  re-peopled  the  green  mounds  with 
Druid  priests  and  Irish  Kings.  I  imagined  coronation 
scenes,  and  vast  armies  filling  the  plains.     These  used  to 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  99 

be  realities  in  Tara,  but  all  is  changed  now.  An  air  of 
loneliness  pervades  the  very  atmosphere.  Even  the 
"Stone  of  Destiny,"  fabled  as  Jacob's  Pillow  at  Bethel, 
is  gone.  It  was  carried  to  Scotland  centuries  ago,  and 
later  taken  to  London,  where  it  can  be  seen  as  the  seat 
of  the  coronation  chair  in  Westminster  Abbey.  We  saw 
the  Statue  of  St.  Patrick,  at  which  many  a  rude  joke  is 
made.  From  our  aerial  viewpoint  we  could  not  see  it 
distinctly,  but  it  is  said  to  be  a  fair  work  of  art  for  a 
stone  cutter  to  accomplish.  St.  Patrick  often  preached 
at  Tara,  and  a  shaft  here  in  his  honor  would  be  most 
appropriate. 

Daniel  O'Connell  on  one  occasion  drew  a  quarter  of 
a  million  of  people  to  Tara  in  1844,  when  he  held  a  great 
two  days'  political  meeting  and  gave  two  brilliant  ad- 
dresses. 

Tara  is  not  marked  by  any  marble  obelisk  to  re- 
count its  former  glories,  but  it  will  be  held  in  memory 
while  time  lasts  on  account  of  Thomas  Moore's  world- 
famed  ballad : 

"The  Harp  that  once  through  Tara's  Halls 

The  soul  of  music  shed 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara's  walls, 

As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 
So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory's  thrill  is  o'er, 
So  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise 

Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more. 

"No  more  to  chiefs  and  ladies  bright 

The  harp  of  Tara  swells; 
The  chord  alone  that  breaks  at  night 

Its  tale  of  ruin  tells. 


100  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 


Thus  Freedom  now  so  seldom  wakes, 

The  only  throb  she  gives 
Is  when  some  heart  indignant  breaks 

To  show  that  she  still  lives." 

"Farewell  to  Tara's  Halls,"  I  said,  as  we  swept  on 
south. 

As  we  fled  over  Ireland  we  astonished  the  Irish 
people,  but  we  also  astonished  the  denizens  of  the 
air.  The  birds  seemed  unable  to  understand  what 
kind  of  a  monster  was  invading  their  element.  As  we 
passed  over  rookeries,  where  the  crows  had  their  nests 
in  large  flocks,  the  cawing  of  the  frightened  crows  was 
tremendous.  The  little  sparrows  chirped  around  us. 
with  their  chatter.  We  saw  many  magpies,  robins, 
blackbirds  and  thrushes.  There  was  one  bird  in  Ireland 
I  learned  to  love,  the  meadow  lark.  It  would  spring 
from  the  ground  singing  as  it  rose,  until  it  was  lost 
in  the  clouds,  but  its  sweet  notes  could  still  be  heard. 

Less  than  half  an  hour  after  leaving  Tara,  we  ar- 
rived at  Maynooth,  which  is  located  just  12  miles  west 
of  Dublin.  Maynooth  is  celebrated  as  the  seat  of  May- 
nooth College,  the  chief  Roman  Catholic  educational 
center  in  modern  Ireland.  A  College  was  established  in 
Maynooth  as  early  as  15 13,  but  the  present  institution 
dates  back  only  to  1795.  At  that  time  it  was  re-organiz- 
ed and  established  with  Government  grants. 

Three-fourths  of  the  priests  in  Ireland  have  been 
educated  here,  and  the  standard  of  the  college  is  high 
amongst  the  Catholic  institutions    of    Europe.       About 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  101 

150  complete  their  education  every  year,  and  take  their 
place  as  the  spiritual  leaders  of  the  Catholic  population 
of  the  Island.  Until  the  establishment  of  Maynooth  Col- 
lege, the  Irish  priests  were  educated  generally  in  France. 
Maynooth  is  noted  amongst  all  classes  in  Ireland  as  a 
center  for  temperance  reform,  and  it  is  claimed  that  fully 
three- fourths  of  the  priests  from  Maynooth  are  pledged 
abstainers,  and  ardent  temperance  workers.  The  Col- 
lege has  a  large,  spacious  campus,  and  adequate  build- 
ings, and  has  an  attendance  of  about  500  students. 

The  massive  ruins  of  Maynooth  Castle  stand  at  the 
gateway  of  the  College.  There  is  another  interesting 
ruin  in  the  vicinity,  the  Round  Tower,  of  Taghadoc,  one 
of  the  largest  of  these  Irish  Round  Towers.  It  stands  a 
few  miles   south   of  Maynooth. 

We  circled  twice  over  the  College,  and  were  greet- 
ed with  cheers  by  a  company  of  the  students  who  were 
walking  on  the  campus. 

"Now  for  Dublin,"  said  Mike,  as  he  turned  the 
aeroplane  east. 

"Mike,"   I  said,   "do  you  know  why  every  Irishman 
ought  to  be  rich?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  "I  never  knew  that  was  one  of 
the  duties  of  an  Irishman." 

"Yes,"  I  went  on,  "every  Irishman  ought  to  be  rich 
because  the  capital  of  the  country  has  been  "dublin" 
every  year  for  centuries." 

"That's  a  capital  joke,"  said  Mike  laughing. 

As  we  were  leaving  Maynooth,   I  could  see   from 


102  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

my  lofty  seat  the  famous  Carton  House.  In  this  lordly 
mansion  lives  one  of  the  most  favored  of  Irishmen,  the 
Duke  of  Leinster.  He  has  a  whole  bushel  of  titles,  is 
worth  millions  of  money  and  has  the  blood  of  a  hundred 
Dukes  and  Earls  in  his  veins.  In  spite  of  all  this,  he  is 
not  very  robust  in  physical  health,  and  it  is  said  he  has 
symptoms  of  tuberculosis.  He  is  young  and  unmarried. 
He  has  several  palatial  residences,  but  Carton  House  is 
his  favorite.  It  stands  in  a  Park,  enclosed  by  an  eight 
mile  10  foot  wall,  and  in  the  Park  are  over  thirty  miles 
of  macadamized  driveways.  His  garden  covers  sixty 
acres.  Queen  Victoria  was  once  the  guest  of  this  splen- 
did home,  which  is  a  royal  palace  itself. 

For  a  number  of  miles  we  followed  the  river  Liffey, 
and  it  was  easy  to  tell  we  were  nearing  the  Capital  City. 
Beautiful  villas  dotted  the  landscape,  and  many  of  these 
homes  were  evidently  abodes  of  wealth  and  culture. 

As  we  came  nearer,  we  rose  in  the  air  until  we  were 
fully  600  feet  high.  From  this  lofty  elevation  I  could 
see  the  great  city  of  Dublin,  stretching  to  the  sea,  and 
reaching  out  on  both  sides  along  Dublin  Bay.  Mr. 
O'Neill  had  described  his  home  to  us  so  clearly  that  we 
had  no  difficulty  in  finding  it.  He  lived  south  of  Dublin, 
near  Blackrock,  not  far  from  the  seaside. 

We  followed  the  river  Liffey  as  we  passed  through 
the  center  of  the  city.  To  our  left  we  saw  Phoenix 
Park  on  the  western  outskirts.  We  passed  Four  Courts, 
a  massive  Government  building.  We  could  see  the 
famed  Dublin  Castle,  south  of  the  river,  and  further  011 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  103 

Trinity  College  with  its  large  campus  in  the  middle  of 
the  city. 

Passing  over  Trinity  College  Park,  we  began  to 
scan  the  landscape  for  Mr.  O'Neill's  residence.  We 
could  see  that  we  attracted  great  attention  from  the  pop- 
ulace and  we  saw  thousands  of  upturned  faces  of  as- 
tonished Dublinmen.  Mike's  quick  eye  discerned  our 
landing  place.  The  home  of  "The"  O'Neill,  as  we  heard 
him  called  in  Dublin,  was  in  the  center  of  a  large  park, 
with  a  tall  wall  circling  it  completely.  In  front  of  the 
noble  mansion  there  was  a  large  lawn,  which  made  a 
good  place  to  alight. 

It  was  only  nine  o'clock  when  we  dismounted  from 
our  aeroplane  at  "Shaneville,"  as  the  house  was  called. 
Mr.  O'Neill  and  Miss  Edith  came  out  of  the  large  front 
door,  as  we  alit. 

"Yankee  birds,  Yankee  birds,"  sang  out  the  girl  in 
gay  greeting. 

"Welcome,  gentlemen  "  said  Mr.  O'Neill,  "welcome 
to  'Shaneville'." 

With  genuine  Irish  cordiality  he  ushered  us  into  his 
beautiful  and  richly- furnished  home. 


CHAPTER   XV 

GUESTS  IN  AN    IRISH    HOME 

IKE  and  I  were  glad  to  rest  quietly  all  that 
day  within  the  high  walls    that    surrounded 
"Shaneville."     Here  we  were  safe  from  in- 
terviewers,   curious   people,    and   an   excited 
populace. 

When  aeroplaning  is  as  common  as  motoring  now 
is,  it  will  be  much  more  pleasant.  Nowadays  an  aero- 
plane makes  as  much  excitement  as  a  comet,  and  I  ex- 
pect that  even  this  record  will  read  like  a  novel  to  some. 
There  are  people  who  might  enjoy  the  notoriety  which 
;an  aeroplane  gives,  but  we  were  not  anxious  to  get 
famous  in  that  way. 

During  our  pleasant  clay  at  "Shaneville,"  I  renewed 
my  conversation  with  Mr.  O'Neill  in  regard  to  his  na- 
tive land,  and,  in  his  library  that  afternoon  we  had  a 
long  talk  again  on  Ireland. 

I  noticed  that  the  coat  of  arms  of  "Shaneville"  was 
a  red  hand,  with  the  cross  of  St.  George,  and  I  had  re- 
marked that  I  saw  that  coat  of  arms  somewhere  before. 
Mr.  O'Neill  laughed  heartily,  and  assured  me  he  was 
'confident  I  had  seen  it  often.  He  told  me  that  was  the 
coat  of  arms  of  Ulster,  now,  and  was  seen  everywhere 
in  the  North  of  Ireland.  It  was  his  family  which  gave 
Ulster  this  sign.     Long  centuries  before  when  his  ances- 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  105 

tors  came  over  from  Scotland  to  Ireland,  the  invaders 
agreed  amongst  themselves  that  whoever  touched  the 
shore  of  Ireland  first  with  his  hand  would  be  King.  An 
O'Neill  amongst  them,  when  the  boat  stranded  on  the. 
beach,  promptly  drew  his  sharp  sword,  and  cut  off  his 
left  hand  and  threw  it  high  on  the  beach,  and  was  at 
once  hailed  as  King  by  the  rest.  Since  that  the  O'Neill 
emblem  has  been  a  red  hand.  Mr.  O'Neill  related  how 
his  family  held  power  from  that  time  until  the  beginning 
of  the  17th  century,  when  a  rebellion  against  England 
cost  them  their  power  and  estates  in  Ulster.  It  wras  at 
this  time  that  Ulster  was  colonized  anew  from  Scotland. 

James  I.  confiscated  nearly  all  Ulster,  and  partition- 
ed out  the  land  to  new  settlers,  mostly  from  Scotland. 
Although  this  act  had  meant  the  ruin  of  his  house,  I 
could  see  no  bitterness  in  ONeill's  voice  as  he  spoke 
of  this  "plantation  of  Ulster,"  as  he  called  it.  He  said 
that  these  new  settlers  had  made  good,  industrious  citi- 
zens, and  that  Ulster  was  the  most  prosperous  part  of 
Ireland  today.  He  spoke  highly  of  the  character  of  these 
Scotch-Irishmen,  and  added : 

"You  know,  sir,  away  back  our  own  people  came 
from  Scotland." 

Still,  I  could  see  that  O'Neill  looked  on  these  great 
real  estate  transfers  by  the  kings  of  England  as  wrongs 
to  the  native  Irish. 

O'Neill  told  me  there  were  three  reforms  going  on 
in  Ireland  in  which  lie  had  hearty  sympathy.  These  are 
the  improvement  of  Irish  agriculture,  the  revival  of  the 


106  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Gaelic  tongue,    and    the    suppression    of    intemperance 
amongst  the  Irish  people. 

"One  splendid  result  of  the  agitation  for  these  re- 
forms," he  said  earnestly,  "is  that  Irishmen  are  begin- 
ning to  see  that  there  is  one  Ireland  after  all.  All  creeds 
in  Ireland  are  united  in  promoting  these  great  reforms, 
and  it  is  creating  a  national  sentiment  which  is  bringing 
all  Irishmen  into  sympathy  with  each  other." 

"Our  curse  has  been,"  he  continued,  "that  we  have 
been  divided  so  much  amongst  ourselves." 

I  was  surprised  when  he  told  me  of  the  Govern- 
ment's present  efforts  to  improve  Irish  agriculture. 
There  is  an  Agricultural  Department,  which  furnishes 
instructors  on  such  subjects  as  improving  of  crops,  and 
stock,  butter  and  poultry.  They  also  furnish  seeds  and 
fertilizers,  and  are  doing  a  great  deal  in  promoting 
prosperity  in  the  backward  parts  of  the  island.  Mr. 
O'Neill  was  enthusiastic  about  the  Gaelic  revival. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "they  are  even  teaching  Gaelic  now 
in  the  National  Schools  of  Ireland.  In  former  times  the 
use  of  the  native  tongue  was  discouraged  in  every  way 
by  the  Government,  but  now  teachers  are  being  trained 
to  teach  it." 

I  suggested  to  him  that  the  English  was  quite  a  use- 
ful language,  since  it  was  spoken  in  America,  and  so 
widely  throughout  the  world. 

"We  still  expect  to  use  English,  of  course,"  he  ex- 
claimed.    He  then  explained  that  the  efforts  of  Douglas 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  107 

Hyde  and  his  friends  were  to  make  the  Irish  a  bi-lingual 
people,  just  as  the  Welsh  are. 

In  speaking  of  the  progress  of  this  interesting  re- 
vival of  Gaelic  in  Ireland  he  gave  me  some  facts. 

In  1 901  as  many  as  638,000  could  speak  Gaelic  in 
Ireland,  and  the  number  is  constantly  increasing.  All  the 
churches  in  Ireland,  Protestant,  and  Catholic,  have,  en- 
dorsed the  movement.  There  is  a  strong  Gaelic  League, 
which  employs  over  a  dozen  lecturers  and  organizers, 
who  promote  the  study  of  Gaelic  all  over  the  island.  I 
was  assured  that  even  in  America  there  was  a  strong- 
branch  of  this  Gaelic  League,  and  Mr.  O'Neill  told  me 
that  Mr,  Roosevelt  had  endorsed  the  work  highly. 

O'Neill  was  also  deeply  interested  in  the  temperance 
reform. 

"Ireland,"  he  said  to  me,  "has  been  a  place  where 
they  have  had  too  much  good  whisky  and  too  much 
bad  politics.     These  two  things  have  ruined  us." 

He  spoke  with  much  pride  of  the  fact  that  scien- 
tific temperance  instruction  had  been  introduced  into  the 
National  schools  of  Erin  in  1905,  and  also  told  of  the 
work  that  all  the  churches  were  doing.  He  was  an  ar- 
dent admirer  of  Father  Mathew. 

"A  real  temperance  apostle,"  he  exclaimed,  "one 
of  God's  best  blessings  to  Ireland  since  the  clays  of  St. 
Patrick." 

He  spoke  cordially  of  the  temperance  leaders,  and 
told  me  of  the  good  work  being  done  at  Maynooth  college 


108  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

by  the  Faculty  and  the  students.  He  said  that  America's 
eminent  churchman,  Archbishop  Ireland,  had  helped  the 
temperance  cause  in  Ireland,  which  is  his  native  land. 
He  also  mentioned  Rev.  John  Macmillan,  of  Belfast,  the 
temperance  leader  among  the  Presbyterians  in  Ireland, 
and  said  he  was  a  noble  temperance  patriot. 

"These  reforms,"  he  repeated,  "are  bringing  us  to- 
gether and  giving  a  feeling  of  unity  to  Irishmen  such 
as  they  have  not  had  since  the  days  of  Brian  Boru." 

I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  Ireland's  relation  to 
England. 

He  paused  a  few  moments  before  answering,  and 
when  he  did  reply  it  was  in  a  low,  quiet  tone. 

"We  must  forget  the  past,"  he  said,  "if  Ireland  is 
to  make  progress.  It  is  true  that  England  has  cruelly 
wronged  Ireland.  My  own  family  has  suffered  in  past 
generations,  suffered  shamefully.  But  the  English 
Government  of  today  is  treating  Ireland  very  differ- 
ently. Gladstone  inaugurated  a  new  era,  through  the 
efforts  of  Parnell,  Redmond,  and  our  modern  Irish 
leaders.  Today  the  English  people,  I  believe,  want  Ire- 
land to  have  justice." 

I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  separation  from 
England.  He  answered  at  once :  "We  cannot  be  separ- 
ated. God  has  placed  the  islands  side  by  side.  What  we 
want  is  freedom  to  manage  internal  affairs,  just  as  the 
States  in  America,  just  as  Canada,  Australia,  and  New 
Zealand.  We  want  local-self  government,  but  we  must 
remain  a  part  of  the  British  Empire." 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  109 

He  went  on  to  tell  me  how  the  Irishmen  had  helped 
to  build  up  the  British  Empire,  and  make  it  what  it  is 
today. 

"The  present  ambassador  of  the  British  Empire  in 
Washington,"  he  exclaimed,  "is  an  Irishman." 

I  was  profoundly  impressed  with  his  views  on  this 
subject.  I  could  see  he  was  a  man  with  wide  sympathy 
and  practical  outlook,  and  believed  in  living  for  the  fu- 
ture, rather  than  the  past.  He  still  had  all  the  fire  of 
the  O'Neill  blood  in  his  veins,  but  it  had  been  disciplined 
by  generations  of  suffering. 

We  had  a  happy  time  in  the  evening.  There  is  no 
hospitality  like  the  Irish  hospitality.  It  is  whole-hearted, 
cordial  and  sincere. 

Miss  Edith  delighted  us  with  several  Irish  songs. 
She  sang  Moore's  touching  melody:  "The  Last  Rose  of 
Summer,"  with  genuine  pathos.  Afterwards  she  began 
on  American  songs,  and  when  she  had  sung  several,  I 
remarked  that  she  sang  like  an  American. 

She  turned  around  on  her  piano  stool  and  replied : 
"I  have  always  admired  America.  Sometimes  I  tell  my 
father  that  I  believe  that  I  was  meant  for  an  American 
woman." 

"Cross  the  ocean,  Miss  O'Neill,"  said  Mike  quickly, 
"and  a  thousand  Americans  will  swear  that  you  were 
meant  for  an  American  man." 

Edith  blushed  and  turned  again  to  the  piano. 

"Tut,  tut,"  said  Mr.   O'Neill  to  Mike,  "vou  have 


10  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 


been  kissing  the  Blarney  Stone  since  yon  came  to  Ire- 
land." 

"It's  the  atmosphere/'  I  remarked,  "Mr.  Connor 
gets  more  like  an  Irishman  every  day." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  what  the  citizens  of  Dublin  did 
when  the  Union  of  1801  was  agitated?"  asked  Mr. 
O'Neill.  "They  held  an  indignation  meeting,  and  re- 
solved to  burn  everything  that  was  imported  from  Eng- 
land, except  coal."  As  we  laughed  heartily  at  this,  Mr. 
O'Neill  went  on:  "Our  coachman  made  a  curious  re- 
mark to  me  today  about  you  gentlemen  and  your  aero- 
plane. He  said  you  ought  to  feel  proud  of  this  trip  you 
are  making  over  Ireland  in  the  air,  for  you  are  going 
where  the  foot  of  man  never  trod  before." 

"This  coachman  amused  me  shortly  after  I  first 
hired  him.  There  is  a  bad  hole  back  of  the  stable,  and 
I  forgot  to  say  anything  to  him  about  it  until  I  found 
he  had  fallen  into  it,  and  hurt  himself  severely.  I  told 
him  I  was  sorry  I  had  forgotten  to  tell  him  about  it." 

"That's  all  right,  Master,"  he  replied,  "I  found  it 
myself." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

AROUND    THE    CAPITAL    CITY    OF    IRELAND 

HE  next  morning  after  breakfast,  Mr. 
O'Neill  drove  his  motor  car  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  Miss  O'Neill,  Mike  and  I  joined 
him  for  a  day  around  Dublin. 

I  took  my  seat  beside  Mr.  O'Neill,  and  Mike  and 
Edith  sat  together  in  the  rear. 

We  had  a  delightful  day,  and  the  memory  of  that 
trip  around  this  interesting  city  will  always  be  one  of 
my  happiest  memories. 

Our  first  visit  was  Trinity  College,  with  its  campus 
of  47  acres  in  the  heart  of  Dublin.  The  main  building, 
at  the  entrance,  is  a  noble  structure.  We  entered  Exam- 
ination Hall,  where  many  an  Irish  brain  has  been  vio- 
lently cudgelled  at  examination  time.  There  is  a  fine 
portrait  hung  on  its  walls  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who 
founded  Trinity.  The  chapel  is  a  modest  building.  The 
Library  is  famed  as  containing  Brian  Boru's  harp.  It  is 
said  that  this  harp  suggested  to  Moore  his  ode  on  Tara. 
Here  we  also  saw  the  "Book  of  Kells",  so  called  because 
it  came  from  the  Monastery  at  Kells. 

In  this  book  the  four  gospels  are  written  out  with 
exquisite  penmanship,  on  leaves  embossed  with  gold, 
and  beautifully  illuminated.  We  doubt  if  there  is  a 
more  beautiful  book  in  the  world. 


112  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Coming  out  of  Trinity,  Mr.  O'Neill  called  our  atten- 
tion to  the  statues  of  Edmund  Burke  and  Oliver  Gold- 
smith, which  adorn  the  entrance.  These  are  two  of  the 
most  famous  of  Trinity's  sons. 

Opposite  the  entrance  to  Trinity  is  the  old  Parlia- 
ment House,  in  which  in  former  days  the  Irish  Parlia- 
ment met.  It  is  now  used  by  the  bank  of  Ireland.  It 
was  in  this  building  that  Grattan  thundered  his  anathe- 
mas against  the  foes  of  Ireland. 

Dublin  is  a  city  of  monuments.  As  Mr.  O'Neill 
showed  them  to  us,  we  began  to  have  a  better  apprecia- 
tion of  the  number  of  eminent  men  whom  Ireland  has 
given  to  the  world. 

High  above  them  all,  in  the  centre  of  the  city,  is 
a  lofty  pillar,  134  feet  high,  erected  to  the  honor  of  the 
great  English  Admiral,  Lord  Nelson.  From  the  base  of 
Nelson's  monument  street  cars  start  in  all  directions. 

Daniel  O'ConnelFs  monument  is  a  fitting  tribute 
to  Ireland's  great  Liberator.  It  is  12  feet  high  and  is 
surrounded  by  a  number  of  smaller  figures.  There  are 
also  statues  of  the  two  great  Irish  Statesmen,  remark- 
able for  their  patriotic  eloquence,  Henry  Grattan,  and 
John  Philpot  Curran. 

Mr.  O'Neill  also  pointed  out  the  statue  to  Father 
Mathew,  which  stands  in  a  central  place.  It  is  a  noble 
work  of  art,  done  in  marble,  and  is  worthy  of  the  Apos- 
tle of  Temperance.  Thomas  Moore,  the  gifted  poet,  has 
been  honored  by  his  countrymen  also,  although  his 
poems  will  keep  his  memory  green  as  long  as  time  lasts. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  113 

A  statue  to  Charles  Stewart  Parnell  is  to  be  erected 
Mr.  O'Neill  told  us.  O'Neill  has  been  a  great  admirer 
of  Parnell,  and  the  tragic  close  of  his  life  grieved  him 
much. 

We  had  a  delightful  time  in  Phoenix  Park.  This 
unrivalled  combination  of  forest  and  meadow,  flower- 
beds and  fountains,  driveways  and  lawns,  covers  1700 
acres,  and  is  a  credit  to  Ireland. 

There  is  a  statue  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  Ire- 
land's foremost  soldier,  in  Phoenix  Park.  It  is  like 
Washington's  Monument  in  Washington,  except  that  it 
is  only  one-third  as  large. 

We  visited  the  zoological  gardens  in  the  Park. 
Here  we  saw  a  marvelous  collection  of  all  kinds  of  ani- 
mals. 

As  we  went  through  the  Monkey  house,  Mike  said 
to  Edith :  "In  America  some  wise  men  think  we  sprang 
from  monkeys." 

''The  Irish  didn't,''  she  said  gaily,  "we  never  sprang 
from  anybody.     We  sprang  at  them." 

As  we  laughed  at  her  wit,  Mike  remarked : 

"I  have  always  objected  to  having  a  mOnkey  tied 
on  to  my  family  tree." 

Mr.  O'Neill  took  us  to  the  Viceregal  lodge,  which 
is  in  Phoenix  Park,  where  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ire- 
land lives  in  the  summer  time,  and  we  had  a  brief  aud- 
ience with  His  Excellency.  He  professed  to  be  much 
pleased  to  see  us,  and  was  greatly  interested  in  our 
aerial  exploits  in  the  Irish  atmosphere. 


114  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

We  also  visited  Dublin  Castle,  the  center  of  Irish 
history  for  centuries.  We  saw  there  the  tower  in  which 
Robert  Emmet  and  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  were  con- 
fined, over  a  century  ago,  after  their  ill-fated  rebellions. 
Oliver  Cromwell  resided  in  this  castle  for  a  time.  Wil- 
liam III.  visited  it  in  1690.  The  Castle  is  at  present  the 
scene  of  many  gay  social  events  during  the  winter 
months,  when  the  Lord  Lieutenant  resides  in  it.. 

Stephen's  Green  is  an  aristocratic  suburb  of  twenty- 
two  acres  in  the  heart  of  Dublin.  It  is  a  big  square,  sur- 
rounded by  the  mansions  of  the  rich  and  titled  of  Dub- 
lin's citizenship. 

We  motored  also  a  little  to  the  south  of  Dublin 
and  visited  Clontarf,  where  the  famous  battle  was  fought 
on  Good  Friday  in  1014  between  the  Irish  and  the 
Danes.  In  this  battle  Brian  Boru  was  killed.  Brian 
marched  his  army  that  day  from  Phoenix  Park,  where 
he  was  encamped,  and  defeated  the  Danes,  but  one  of  the 
fleeing  Danish  generals  slew  the  aged  Brian. 

There  are  two  famed  Cathedrals  in  Dublin.  St. 
Patrick's  Cathedral,  where  Dean  Swift  formerly  preach- 
ed, is  a  fine  cruciform  church,  in  the  early  pointed 
style.  In  it  there  are  monuments  to  both  the  Dean  and 
"Stella"  his  wife.  This  Cathedral  was  founded  in  1190 
but  had  varied  experiences  in  history.  It  was  "restored" 
in  1865,  at  a  cost  °f  over  $800,000,  by  Sir  Benjamin 
Guinness. 

The  Roman  Catholic  Pro-Cathedral  is  in  Marlbor- 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  115 


ough  Street,  and  is  built  in  Doric  style.  The  magnificent 
altar  is  of  white  marble.  The  music  in  the  services  is 
•especially  fine. 

We  planned  to  leave  Dublin  the  first  of  the  next 
week  and  continue  our  way  southward.  We  spent  a 
quiet  Sunday  at  "Shaneville"  attending  divine  services 
with  the  O'Neills. 

The  next  morning  Edith  obtained  permission  from 
her  father  and  mother  to  take  her  much  anticipated  flight 
over  Dublin.  The  ascent  was  made  at  ten  o'clock. 
Edith  was  dressed  in  a  neat-fitting  white  dress,  with 
white  gloves  and  veil  to  match,  when  she  appeared  on 
the  lawn,  ready  to  start.  She  looked  so  charming  as  she 
seated  herself  in  the  aeroplane,  that  I  could  not  help 
exclaiming. 

"These  Irish  birds  are  rare  creatures." 
"Watch   the    Irish    dove   and   the   American   Eagle 
soar,"  said  Mike,  as  he  started  the  motor.     We  waved 
goodbye  as  the  aeroplane  rose  in  the  air,  and  disappeared 
over  the  trees 

While  they  were  gone  Mr.  O'Neill  took  me  for  a 
final  stroll  over  his  pleasant  grounds. 

"I  have  never  visited  America,"  he  told  me,  "but 
I  am  anxious  to  cross  the  Atlantic,  and  see  your  marvel- 
ous country.  America  holds  the  future."  He  expressed 
high  admiration  for  the  leaders  in  America,  especially 
President  Roosevelt  and  William  Jennings  Bryan. 

"I  met  Mr.  Bryan  a  few  years  ago  here  in  Dublin," 
he  said.     "We  were  all  delighted  with  him.     He  is  a 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 


great  and  good  man.  He  told  me  there  was  Irish  blood 
in  his  veins  and  he  was  proud  of  it.  Mr.  O'Neill  also 
expressed  the  highest  admiration  for  Abraham  Lincoln,, 
and  called  him  a  benefactor  to  all  the  world. 

I  cordially  invited  him  to  visit  the  land  of  the  Stars 
and  Stripes. 

In  half  an  hour  Edith  and  Mike  returned.  Mike 
circled  over  the  house,  in  his  usual  way  before  lighting- 
and  then  made  a  good  landing  just  where  he  had  started 
from. 

With  her  face  flushed  and  happy,  Edith  stepped 
lightly  to  the  grass. 

"Papa,  papa,"  she  cried,  as  Mr.  O'Neill  came  for- 
ward to  greet  her,  "You  must  get  an  aeroplane." 

"My  child,"  said  her  fond  parent,  "I  am  afraid  this, 
old  bird  has  walked  too  long  to  learn  to  fly  now." 

"What  did  you  see?"  I  asked. 

"O,  everything,"  she  answered,  "it  was  grand.  We 
went  away  out  as  far  as  the  Golf  Grounds  at  Mala- 
hide,  and  all  over  Phoenix  Park.  Won't  you  comeback 
again  Mr.  Connor,"  she  said,  turning  to  Mike  who  was. 
standing  beside  his  airship. 

]\/[ike  took  of!  his  cap  and  bowed. 

"I  surely  will,"  he  said  so  emphatically,  that  the 
color  came  to  Edith's  cheeks. 

As  I  looked  at  them,  already  such  cordial  friends, 
and  realized  that  they  had  never  met  until  a  few  days, 
before,  I  said  to  myself : 

"It's  the  Irish  atmosphere." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WICKLOW,    THE    GARDEN    OF    IRELAND 

FTER  dinner  that  day  we  bade  our  friends 
~A    J  J    farewell.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  O'Neill  were  urgent 


in  their  invitation  that  we  visit  them  again. 
'Goodbye,"  said  Edith  to  Mike.  "I  am 
very  glad  I  have  met  you,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  flying  with  you." 

"Do  not  mention  it,"  said  Mike  as  he  held  her  hand, 
"You  are  such  a  brave  aeronaut  that  I  could  fly  with  you 
anywhere." 

Edith  blushed  deeply  as  Mike's  eyes  spoke  as  well 
as  his  tongue. 

After  we  had  ascended  in  the  air,  Mike  circled 
around,  like  a  carrier  pigeon,  and  then  sped  off  toward 
the  south. 

As  we  entered  County  Wicklow,  we  left  the  sea- 
coast  and  crossed  Wicklow  about  the  middle  of  the 
County,  passing  over  the  Wicklow  hills. 

This  was  the  most  exciting  part  of  our  entire  trip. 

Wicklow  has  been  called  a  miniature  Switzerland, 
and  it  well  deserves  the  name.  There  are  over  twenty 
mountains  in  this  small  space  that  exceed  2000  feet 
in  height,  and  as  they  rise  abruptly  from  the  level,  they 
seem  even  higher. 

Scattered  among  these  hills,  there  are  beautiful  val- 


118  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

leys,  magnificent  mansions,  villas,  farms  and  Irish  cot- 
tages. Much  of  the  country  is  thickly  wooded.  The 
Woods  of  Shillelah  are  in  Wicklow.  (  Here  the  best 
blackthorn,  out  of  which  Ireland's  ancient  weapon  was 
made,  used  to  grow,  and  the  weapons  were  called  "Shil- 
lelahs"  from  these  woods. 

In  order  to  see  the  grandeur  of  Wicklow  to  the  best 
advantage,  Mike  and  I  threw  discretion  to  the  winds. 
The  motor  had  been  acting  so  well  since  we  left  County 
Derry,  that  we  had  full  confidence  in  it  now. 

"Let  us  go  over  the  tops  of  the  mountains,"  I  said  to 
Mike. 

He  was  glad  to  do  this,  and  rose  until  we  reached 
the  dizzy  height  of  2500  feet.  I  would  not  advise  aero- 
planists  to  seek  this  altitude  until  they  are  thoroughly  ac- 
climated to  life  in  the  atmosphere. 

I  had  become  somewhat  hardened  to  aeroplaning,. 
but  as  I  looked  straight  down  sometimes  into  a  deep 
valley,  half  a  mile  below  me,  I  did  not  feel  altogether 
at  my  ease. 

The  view  was  magnificent.  We  passed  over  the 
Valley  of  Glendalough,  between  the  mountains  of  Coom- 
aderry  and  Lugduff.  In  this  dark  valley,  by  the  side  of 
a  lake,  St.  Kevin  lived  in  an  early  day.  His  fear  of 
womankind  has  been  immortalized  by  Moore.  Formerly 
in  this  valley  there  was  a  crowded  city,  and  a  great  seat 
of  learning,  and  many  kings  are  buried  in  this  vicinity. 

We  saw  here  the  ruins  of  the  Seven  Churches,  and 
a  Round  Tower,  said  to  date  back  to  the  7th  century. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  119 

As  we  entered  the  vale  of  Avoca,  I  remarked  to 
Mike  that  Thomas  Moore  had  touched  Ireland  with  his 
genius,  just  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  threw  a  charm  over 
Scotland.  The  vale  of  Avoca  is  best  known  by  Moore's 
lines : 

"Sweet  Vale  of  Avoca,  how  calm  could  I  rest, 

In  thy  bosom  of  shade,  with  friends  I  love  best; 

Where  the  storms  that  we  feel  in  this  cold  world  should 

cease, 
And  our  hearts,  like  thy  waters,  be  mingled  in  peace." 

Although  the  scenery  through  Wicklow  was  grand, 
I  felt  relieved  as  we  quitted  our  lofty  altitude,  and  sailed 
nearer  the  earth  over  the  more  prosaic  County  of  Wex- 
ford. As  Mike  lowered  the  aeroplane  within  about 
ico  feet  of  the  land  I  breathed  easier. 

Wexford  was  the  home  of  Dermot  McMurragh, 
who  first  invited  the  English  into  Ireland.  The  ruins  of 
his  castle  and  his  tomb  are  near  Ferns,  but  Wexford  is 
not  particularly  proud  of  McMurragh. 

Wexford  has  been  called  by  an  Irishman,  "the  most 
agricultural  county  in  Ireland,"  and  we  could  well  be- 
lieve it  as  we  swept  over  its  green  pastures  and  cultivated 
farms. 

We  sighted  the  city  of  Wexford  at  4  :oo  o'clock.  As 
we  circled  around  over  the  city,  I  observed  its  excellent 
harbor,  with  a  complete  breakwater,  and  also  its  spacious 
docks.  The  city  looks  like  a  city  in  Palestine  on  account 
of  its  narrow  streets,  but  it  is  a  clean,  prosperous  look- 
ing place. 


120  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

We  alit,  as  usual  outside  the  city,  and  left  our  aero- 
plane for  the  night  in  charge  of  a  friendly  farmer.  We 
made  our  escape  as  quietly  as  possible  from  the  gath- 
ering crowd,  and  soon  found  the  quiet  of  a  good  hotel. 
The  Redmond  family,  noted  Irish  leaders,  reside  in 
Wexford,  and  the  spirit  of  the  dislike  to  England  is  very 
pronounced. 

We  saw  two  magnificent  churches  called  the  Twins, 
on  account  of  their  similarity.  These  show  the  religious 
zeal  of  the  people.  The  business  part  of  the  town  showed 
their  commercial  enterprise. 

The  Quay  is  a  busy  place  as  steamship  lines  run  to 
England,  and  there  is  much  traffic  in  merchandise  be- 
tween Wexford  and  England,  but  there  is  none  in  affec- 
tion. 

Before  retiring  for  the  night  we  met  an  interesting 
old  Irishman,  whose  whole  soul  was  controlled  by  hatred 
of  Cromwell  and  England.  He  had  none  of  Mr.  O'Neill's 
charity  for  ancient  wrongs,  and,  as  he  told  us  of  Crom- 
well's Wexford  campaign,  we  could  sympathize  with  him 
a  good  deal.  To  show  us  how  Ireland  regarded  Crom- 
well, he  quoted  from  an  Irish  poet,  a  few  lines,  which 
ran  something  like  this  : 

"From  Drogheda  that  man  of  guilt 

To  fated  Wexford  flew, 
The  red  blood  reeking  on  his  hilt 

Of  hearts  to  Erin  true. 

He  found  them  there — the  young,  the  old, 

The  maiden  and  the  wife; 
Their  guardians  brave  in  death  were  cold, 

Who  dared  for  them  in  strife. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  121 

They  prayed  for  mercy,  God  on  high 

Before  Thy  Cross  they  prayed, 
And  ruthless  Cromwell  bade  them  die 

To  glut  the  Saxon  blade." 

After  a  while  we  turned  the  old  patriot's  attention 
to  America,  and  we  found  he  had  a  deep  interest  in  the 
New  World.  "It's  God's  country  over  there,"  he  told 
us.  We  found  he  had  friends  in  America,  and  he  gave 
us  a  ludicrous  verse  in  which  some  Irishman  had  de- 
scribed the  American  character. 

"He'd  kiss  a  Queen  till  he'd  raise  a  blister, 

With  his  arms  round  her  neck,  and  old  felt  hat  on 

And  address  a  King  by  the  name  of  Mister, 

And  ask  him  the  price  of  the  throne  he  sat  on." 

Mike  and  I  assured  him  that  the  Irish  poet  was  too 
severe  on  the  Yankee. 

"Tell  us  a  good  Irish  story,"  I  said,  before  we 
separated. 

"I  will  that,"  he  said,  and  he  told  us  this  one. 

An  excited  orator  during  the  American  Civil  War, 
exclaimed : 

"We  have  taken  Atlanta :  we  have  taken  Savannah, 
Columbus,  Charleston,  and  now  at  last,  have  captured 
Petersburg,  and  occupy  Richmond :  and  what  remains 
for  us  to  take?" 

An  Irishman  in  the  crowd  shouted :  "Let's  take  a 
drink." 

As  he  closed  the  story  our  genial  friend  pointed  to- 
wards the  bar  of  the  hotel  in  a  significant  way,  and  we 


22  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 


saw  the  direction  of  his  joke.  We  declined  politely  to 
show  our  friendship  in  this  way,  but  we  bade  him  good- 
night with  a  warm  handshake  and  best  wishes  for  the 


good  of  Ireland. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

BACK    AGAIN   TO    CORK 

7«=sK5=2pJ  E  left  Wexford  the  next  morning  in  a  misty 
VM  h\    rain. 

"I  am  glad  I  put  a  rain-coat  on  my  aero- 
plane," said  Mike  as  the  rain  came  down  in 
a  regular  pour. 

We  did  not  enjoy  that  morning's  sail  from  Wexford 
to  Waterford.  In  an  hour's  time  we  saw  Waterford  arise 
out  of  the  mist.  Like  Wexford,  Waterford  is  an  import- 
ant seaport,  built  on  the  banks  of  the  Suir  river.  The 
name  of  this  beautiful  river  is  a  vile  slander.  Much  agri- 
cultural produce,  and  bacon  and  live  stock  are  shipped 
from  here  to  England. 

The  city  was  able  to  defend  itself  against  Cromwell 
in  1649,  and  was  the  only  place  in  Ireland  that  did  not 
fall  before  the  terrible  charge  of  Cromwell's  Ironsides. 

I  was  able  to  see,  though  indistinctly,  the  Cathedral, 
where  Strongbow,  Ireland's  first  English  master,  lies 
buried.  This  arch-enemy  of  Ireland  is  surely  well  buried 
as  he  has  also  a  tomb  in  Dublin.  Strongbow  married  the 
daughter  of  Dermot  McMurragh  on  the  battle  field  near 
Waterford  where  he  defeated  the  Irish. 

Lord  Roberts  has  a  home  in  Waterford,  and  it  was 
here  he  grew  up  and  developed  those  fighting  qualities 
which  have  made  him  England's  foremost  soldier  today. 


124  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

Water  ford  was  founded  by  the  Danes  in  the  ninth 
century.  The  antique  iron  bridge  across  the  river,  and 
the  docks,  a  mile  long,  are  notable  features  of  the  mod- 
ern city. 

There  is  one  interesting  relic  of  the  Danish  period 
still  standing  near  the  docks.  It  is  a  large  round  tower, 
about  50  feet  high,  which  was  built  by  Reginald,  the 
Dane,  in  1003.       At  present  it  is  a  police  cell. 

We  left  Water  ford  with  the  rain  still  falling,  and 
went  up  along  the  banks  of  the  Suir  to  Portlaw,  a  small 
manufacturing  town.  Near  here  we  flew  over  Curragh- 
more,  the  stately  mansion  of  the  Marquis  of  Waterford. 
The  desmense  covers  5000  acres,  and  is  a  beautiful  nat- 
ural park,  with  many  slopes,  and  dells.  There  is  an 
ancient  castle  beside  the  modern  mansion. 

In  this  part  of  Ireland  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  Ed- 
mund Spencer  lived.  We  soon  saw  Youghal,  on  the 
coast,  where  Raleigh  lived,  and  where  his  old  house  still 
stands. 

Edmund  Spencer  was  a  close  friend  of  Raleigh's. 
He  was  an  English  poet  but  became  associated  with  Ire- 
land because  he  wrote  the  "Fairy  Queen  in  the  Emerald 
Isle"  in  1589  and  1590.  He  would  be  more  popular  in 
Ireland  today  only,  unfortunately,  the  Maiden  Queen 
Elizabeth  gave  him  a  present  of  some  3028  acres  of  Irish 
land.  The  Queen's  title  to  this  piece  of  real  estate  was 
not  considered  very  good  by  the  Irish,  and  they  have 
never  forgiven  Spencer  for  accepting  it. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  125 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  also  accepted  a  big  farm  of  over 
40,000  acres  in  Ireland  from  this  same  Maiden  Queen, 
whose  real  estate  transactions  in  Ireland  were  consider- 
able, but  Raleigh  has  been  partly  forgiven  because  he 
gave  Ireland  the  potato. 

It  was  nearly  nine  when  we  whizzed  over  Youghal, 
and  circled  around  it  twice.  We  dipped,  as  we  flew 
over  the  harbor,  until  we  were  within  thirty  feet  of  the 
water,  and  aroused  excited  cheering  from  the  crowd 
watching  us  on  the  docks,  as  we  turned  and  rose  high 
again  over  the  city. 

I  discovered  Myrtle  Lodge,  Raleigh's  old  home  in 
Youghal.  It  was  ivy  clad,  and  well  preserved,  and  the 
grounds  around  it  neatly  kept.  I  was  delighted  to  see 
the  garden  of  Myrtle  Lodge.  It  is  almost  as  sacred  to 
the  Irishman  as  the  Garden  of  Eden.  In  this  garden  in 
1586  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  planted  the  first  potato  ever 
grown  in  the  Emerald  Isle.  He  brought  the  seed  from 
the  West  Indies,  where  they  had  been  carried  by  the 
Spanish  from  Peru,  the  potato's  native  home. 

It  was  a  century  after  this  before  the  sterling  quali- 
ties of  the  potato  were  appreciated  fully,  but  now  that 
useful  tuber  is  adopted  as  Ireland's  own  darling  veget- 
able. 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  quite  a  gardener,  as  well 
as  having  a  reputation  as  a  soldier,  an  author,  a  courtier, 
an  explorer,  a  statesman,  and  a  lover.  In  some  respects 
he  was  the  Theodore  Roosevelt  of  his  age.     Doubtless 


126  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

he  inherited  his  genius  for  gardening  from  his  first  par- 
ent, Adam.  He  brought  the  seed  of  the  cheery  from  the 
Azores,  and  planted  the  first  cherry  tree  in  this  famous 
garden,  as  it  is  said  all  the  cherries  in  the  United  King- 
dom can  trace  their  descent  back  to  Youghal. 

We  were  now  only  thirty  miles  from  Cork.  As  we 
left  Youghal,  and  the  landing  place  of  the  potato  in  Ire- 
land, the  heavy  clouds  suddenly  made  up  their  minds 
to  decamp.  They  at  once  scattered  in  all  directions,  and 
in  fifteen  minutes  the  sun  was  shining  just  as  though  it 
had  been  with  us  all  morning.  Then  it  was  that  it 
occurred  to  us  that  the  sudden  changes  of  Irish  weather 
were  not  always  a  disadvantage.  If  it  rains  easy,  it  also 
clears  away  easy. 

I  was  glad  to  see  the  fields  of  Cork  again.  We  fol- 
lowed the  railroad  line  most  of  the  way  from  Youghal 
to  Cork.  We  met  a  train  again  on  this  road,  and  had 
another  noisy  greeting  from  the  engine  and  passenger 
coaches. 

As  we  neared  Cork,  and  saw  the  magnificent  Cork 
Harbor,  stretching  down  to  Queenstown,  I  turned  to 
Mike  and  said : 

"Mike,  Ireland  is  a  great  country,  and  you  and  I 
have  seen  it  the  last  few  days  as  nobody  has  ever  seen  it 
before.  The  aeroplane  will  give  to  Ireland  a  new  fame 
throughout  the  world." 

"We  have  had  a  big  time,"  said  Mike  simply,  but 
I  knew  he  was  the  happiest  man  on  earth,  or  rather  in 
the  air. 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  127 

As  we  were  circling  around  preparatory  to  making 
a  landing,  I  repeated  enthusiastically  the  words  of  an 
Irish  poet : 

"O  Ireland,  isn't  it  £rand  you  look : 

Like  a  bride  in  her  rich  adornin', 
And  with  all  the  pent-up  love  of  my  heart, 

I  bid  you  the  top  o'  the  mornin'." 

We  landed  at  10  :oo  o'clock  on  the  very  field  we  had 
left  only  a  few  days  before. 

If  Columbus,  when  he  set  foot  on  America,  felt  any 
bigger  than  we  did  as  we  stepped  out  of  our  aeroplane  at 
Cork  that  day,  he  must  have  felt  bigger  than  Goliath. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

OUR    LAST    DAY   IN    IRELAND    SEEING    TIPPERARY 

E  spent  the  rest  of  that  day  around  Cork. 
Going  to  the  steamship  office  we  found  our 
liner  would  call  at  Queenstown  on  the  second 
day.     We  had  one  more  day  for  sightseeing. 
"Mike,"  said  I,  "let  us  start  early  tomorrow  morn- 
ing, and  spend  our  last  day  seeing  Tipper ary." 
"Agreed,"  said  he. 

He  carefully  overhauled  the  motor,  and  we  had  all 
in  readiness  for  a  second  flight  from  Cork  the  next 
morning. 

We  flew  direct  toward  County  Tipperary.  Our 
first  place  of  interest  was  Cashel,  the  former  Capital  of 
Minister. 

As  we  entered  Tipperary  and  skimmed  over  its 
green  acres,  I  entertained  Mike  by  quoting  to  him  a  de- 
scription of  a  Tipperary  man : 

"Strong  is  his  form,  his  heart  is  warm, 

His  spirit  light  as    any  fairy: 
His  wrath  as  fearful  as  the  storms 

That  sweep  the  hills  of  Tipperary. 

Lead  him  to  fight  for  Fatherland, 

His  is  no  courage  cold  or  wary ; 
The  troops  live  not  on  earth  could  stand 

The  headlong  charge  of  Tipperary. 

But  meet  him  in  his  cabin  rude, 

Or  walking  with  his  dark-haired  Mary, 

You'd  swear  they  knew  no  other  mood, 
But  mirth  and  love  in  Tipperary." 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  129 


When  I  had  finished,  Mike  returned  me  the  favor  by 
singing,  with  the  motor  as  an  accompaniment,  a  famous 
Tipperary  song:  The  words  of  it  are: 

'Oh,    Paddy,    dear,  and  did    you   hear    the    news  that's    going 

round  ? 
The  shamrock  is  by  law  forbid  to  grow  on  Irish  ground; 
No  more  St.  Patrick's  Day  we'll  keep,  his    color  can't  be  seen, 
For  there's  a  bloody  law  agin  the  wearin'  o'  the  green. 
I  met  with  Napper  Tandy,  and  he  tuk  me  by  the  hand, 
And  he  said,  'And  how's  ould  Ireland  and  how  does  she  stand?' 
She's  the  most  distressful  country  that  ever  yet  was  seen, 
For  they're  hangin'  men  and  women  for  the  wearin'  o'the  green." 

When  he  had  finished  I  said : 

"Mike,  an  Irishman  could  not  sing  that  any  better 
than  you." 

"An  Irishwoman  could,  though/'  said  Mike,  and 
then  he  continued,  "You  ought  to  have  heard  Edith  sing 
that  very  song  as  we  were  flying  over  Dublin.  I  thought 
I  was  in  heaven,  and  was  hearing  the  angels  sing." 

"When  you  landed  after  that  trip  you  both  looked 
as  though  you  had  been  in  the  seventh  heaven,"  I  an- 
swered. 

Just  then  we  sighted  the  rock  of  Cashel,  and  our 
thoughts  were  turned  into  other  channels.  Cashel,  like 
Tara,  is  only  a  memory.  Formerly  it  was  a  place  of  the 
greatest  importance  all  over  the  south  of  Ireland.  Now 
it  is  an  unimportant  village.  The  famous  rock  of  Cashel 
still  stands,  crowned  with  the  ruins  of  the  old  Cathedral, 
King  Cormac's  Chapel,  and  a  Round  Tower.  This  cele- 
brated rock  is  a  mass  of  limestone,  rising  steeply  out  of 


130  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

the  plain  to  the  height  of  300  feet.  Here  formerly  the 
Kings  of  Minister  were  crowned,  and  here,  in  1172,  Hen- 
ry II.  was  declared  King  of  Ireland.  St.  Patrick  preached 
at  Cashel  when  it  was  a  Royal  Court. 

We  circled  the  Rock  twice  to  the  utter  amazement 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  village.  I  doubt  if  we  made 
more  stir  anywhere  than  in  Cashel. 

Passing  on  towards  Thurles,  we  saw  one  of  the 
finest  monastic  ruins  in  Ireland,  Holy  Cross  Abbey.  The 
ruins  are  of  great  antiquity,  but  are  well  preserved,  and 
they  are  quite  extensive.  The  Cruciform  church  is  still 
extant  enough  to  show  lines  of  great  beauty.  This  was 
a  former"  Sanctuary  of  the  O'Briens  of  Limerick. 

From  Thurles  we  went  directly  west  to  Limerick. 

Limerick  is  one  of  Ireland's  oldest  cities,  and  it 
looks  it.  It  is  built  on  the  Shannon  river,  and  Limerick 
Castle  still  frowns  over  that  noble  stream.  This  old 
castle  is  well  preserved. 

Limerick,  like  so  many  of  the  towns  around  the 
coast  of  Ireland,  was  founded  by  the  Danes.  It  has  been 
the  scene  of  some  stirring  Irish  history.  Two  famous 
sieges  were  endured  by  this  city  in  the  17th  century. 

In  1 65 1,  the  English  besieged  and  captured  Limer- 
ick under  General  Ireton.  On  capturing  the  city,  Ireton 
hung  Bishop  O'Brien,  an  outrage  deeply  resented  by  the 
Irish  people. 

In  1690  the  forces  of  William  II.  invested  Limerick, 
after  the  victory  at  the  Boyne,   and  the   garrison  was 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  131 

compelled  to  capitulate.  The  treaty  of  capitulation  was 
signed  on  a  large  stone,  since  called  the  "Treaty  Stone." 

This  Treaty  afterwards  was  shamefully  violated  by 
the  English  Government,  and  to  this  day  Limerick  is 
known  in  Ireland  as  "The  City  of  the  Violated  Treaty." 
As  we  flew  over  the  city  I  saw  this  famous  stone,  on  a 
pedestal,  near  Thomond  Bridge.  I  also  saw  the  ancient 
Cathedral  which  adorns  the  city.  The  present  popula- 
tion of  Limerick  is  only  40,000  as  the  city  has  lost  heav- 
ily in  recent  years  by  emigration  to  America.  The  chief 
business  at  present  is  butter-making,  but  lace  and  linen 
are  also  produced.  There  are  fine  docks  and  a  good  ex- 
port business,  as  the  Shannon  is  easily  navigable  at 
Limerick. 

There  was  one  other  spot  in  Ireland  we  wished  to 
see.  We  could  not  finish  up  our  aeroplane  trip  without 
flying  over  Glengariff,  which  has  been  called  the  loveliest 
spot  in  all  Europe.  We  made  a  rapid  return  flight  from 
Limerick  to  County  Cork.  We  sped  past  the  Kerry 
Mountains,  beyond  which  lay  Killarney,  but  we  did  not 
attempt  to  cross  them.  It  was  still  early  in  the  forenoon 
when  we  reached  Bantry  Bay. 

Glengariff  means  "Rugged  Glen"  and  the  scenery 
is  rugged  enough  in  places  but  it  is  undoubtedly  one  of 
the  finest  scenes  in  the  world.  A  mountain  stream  runs 
through  the  lovely  valley,  which  is  crossed  by  many 
picturesque  bridges,  before  it  empties  itself  into  the 
waters  of  Bantry  Bay.  Thackery  said  if  Glengariff  were 
in  England,  it  would  be  one    of  the    world's    wonders. 


132  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

The  climate  is  remarkably  mild  all  the  year  and  the  wild 
flowers  grow  in  profusion.  We  passed  directly  over 
the  little  village  of  Glengariff,  and  saw  Cromwell's 
Bridge.  This  is  a  bridge  said  to  have  been  damaged,  as 
so  much  else  was  during  Cromwell's  visit  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

Our  minds,  our  hearts,  our  souls  were  full  of  the 
beautiful  scenes  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  when  we  turned  to- 
wards Cork  for  our  final  flight. 

Before  we  reached  the  more  level  land,  beyond  the 
hills  of  Bantry  Bay,  we  had  one  of  our  worst  experiences 
with  the  aeroplane.  While  crossing  a  very  broken,  and 
hilly  stretch  of  country,  covered  with  stone  fences,  small 
cabins,  and  mountain  garden  patches,  without  any  warn- 
ing, the  motor  again  stopped  suddenly. 

I  cried  out  to  Mike  to  land  at  once.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  alight,  for,  when  the  motor  is  dead,  an  aero- 
plane is  like  a  bird  with  two  broken  wings.  With  the 
rocky  ground,  stone  fences,  and  little  garden-patches,  it 
was  the  most  difficult  descent  Mike  had  to  make.  He 
saved  the  aeroplane  from  a  smash-up  only  by  lighting 
squarely  on  the  roof  of  one  of  the  little  thatched  cabins. 
As  we  landed  on  it,  a  man,  his  wife  and  several  children 
rushed  out  and  gazed  at  us  in  silent  wonder.  We  climbed 
down  as  best  we  could,  and  explained  our  plight.  While 
the  man  went  away  to  get  some  of  his  neighbors  to 
assist  us  in  getting  the  aeroplane  down  on  the  ground, 
I  looked  the  cabin  over.  It  was  not  a  beautiful  sight 
when  seen  close  at  hand.     A  vile-smelling  manure  pile 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  133 

was  heaped  in  front  of  the  door,  and  the  rude  stone  walls 
were  most  unsightly.  The  thatch  looked  as  ancient  as 
some  of  the  old  ruins  we  had  lately  seen.  The  cabin  had 
only  one  room.  Chickens  ran  in  and  out  along  with  the 
children,  and  as  I  entered  inside,  I  saw  "the  pig  in  the 
parlor,"  for  the  one  room  was  the  kitchen,  dining  room, 
parlor  and  bed-room  combined.  Part  of  the  cooking  was 
done  outside  during  fair  weather,  and  a  pot  of  potatoes 
were  boiling  over  a  peat  fire  beside  the  cottage.  There 
was  a  baby  in  the  mother's  arms,  and  I  counted  six  other 
children  around  her.  Pallets  of  straw  showed  where  the 
nightly  rest  was  obtained.  The  floor  was  nothing  but 
hard  mother  earth.  A  table,  two  rough  chairs,  and  a 
stool,  with  a  rough  cupboard  completed  the  furnishings. 
A  few  pots  lay  near  the  peat  fire  under  the  hole,  which 
was  meant  for  a  chimney.  There  was  no  window.  The 
one  door  furnished  all  the  light  and  air. 

I  found  out  afterwards  that  such  cabins  were  occu- 
pied only  by  a  comparatively  few,  even  of  the  poor  in 
Ireland.  The  Government  is  at  present  working  among 
these  poor  peasants,  and  in  a  few  years  it  is  expected 
such  hovels  will  be  banished  forever  from  the  island. 
This  was  a  "bog-trotter"  cabin,  such  as  is  only  found  in 
the  hilly  and  desolate  regions,  where  birds,  to  say  nothing 
of  men,  find  it  hard  to  get  a  living. 

The  woman  was  cordial  and  self-possessed,  and  did 
not  seeem  to  mind  the  squalid  surroundings.  She  offered 
us  some  of  the  cooked  potatoes,  and  as  we  ate  them  out 


134  THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND 

side  the  cabin,  taking  them  in  our  hands,  they  tasted  as 
good  as  though  they  had  been  cooked  in  a  palace. 

A  few  neighbors  soon  gathered  and  helped  us  get 
the  aeroplane  down  from  the  low  roof. 

While  Mike  was  getting  ready  to  start  again,  I 
talked  with  the  owner  of  the  cabin.  He  seemed  cheerful 
and  pointed  out  to  me  his  potato  patch,  his  "food  and 
drink." 

He  told  me  about  the  mountains  that  could  be  seen 
from  his  cabin,  and  named  several  of  the  more  import- 
ant hills.  I  noticed  that  a  number  of  the  names  had  the 
"devil"  in  them.  One  peak  he  called  the  "devil's 
Needle."  Another  hill,  with  a  hollow  place  in  its  side 
was  the  "devil's  Bit."  I  thought  I  would  see  if  there  was 
any  Irish  in  him,  and  I  said : 

"His  Satanic  Majesty  seems  to  own  a  great  deal  of 
property  among  these  hills,  judging  by  their  names." 

"Indade  he  does,  sor,"  said  this  son  of  Erin,  "but  he 
is  like  most  of  our  landlords,  he  makes  his  headquarters 
in  London,  sor." 

I  saw  it  was  no  difference  where  you  find  him,  in 
palace,  mansion,  villa,  cottage,  cabin  or  even  hovel,  an 
Irishman  is  always  the  same.  Everywhere  you  will  find 
him  genial,  witty,  good-natured.  It  must  be  the  effect 
of  the  Irish  atmosphere. 

When  Mike  had  the  motor  going  again  we  soon 
made  our  ascent  aloft,  leaving  our  Irish  cabiners  watch- 
ing us  in  awe. 

We  reached  Cork  again  shortly  after  noon.  After 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  IRELAND  135 

a  brief  rest,  we  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in  taking  the  air- 
ship to  pieces,  and  re-packing  it. 

Next  morning  we  were  ready  for  our  ocean  voyage 
and  took  the  early  train  from  Cork  to  Queenstown. 
Five  days  later  we  reached  New  York.  We  had  been 
absent  considerably  less  than  a  month. 

Mike  has  since  returned  to  Ireland.  He  did  not  take 
the  aeroplane,  but  he  took  along  a  big  trunk.  When  he 
returns,  as  he  will  in  a  few  weeks,  the  Connor  house  in 
New  York  State,  will  have  a  beautiful  young  Irish  girl 
as  its  queen,  and  my  good  friend,  Mr.  O'Neill  will  come 
out  to  America  next  year  to  see  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Mich- 
ael Connor.  Such  was  the  strange  ending  of  our  aero- 
plane trip.  As  I  think  of  it,  I  often  say  to  myself:  "It 
was  the  result  of  the  Irish  atmosphere." 


BOSTON  COLLEGE 


mi iif!  z 

3  9031   01 64621 y  * 


DA  CORKEY- 

977 

.C8 


Bapst  Library 

Boston  College 
Chestnut  Hill,  Mass.    02167 


HI 


■H 


